AT   LOS  ANGELES 


17  7V 


NORMAL  SCHOOi, 

Los  Arcgeles.Cai. 


CHRISTMAS    EVE 


AND 


CHRISTMAS     DAY. 


CHRISTMAS  EVE 


AND 


CHRISTMAS    DAY. 


OTrn  Christmas  Stows. 


BY    EDWARD    E.     HALE, 

AUTHOR  OF  "TBN  TIMES  ONE  r?  TEN,"  ETC 


WITH    ILLUSTRATION    BT   F.    0.    C.  DARLEY. 


BOSTON: 
ROBERTS     BROTHERS. 

1886. 


Altered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1872,  by 

EDWARD  E.  HALE, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


UNIVERSITY  PRESS  : 
JOHN  WILSON  &  SON,  CAMBRIDGE. 


T 

iH:> 

C^.fe 

PREFACE. 


THIS  is  a  collection  of  ten  Christmas  Stories, 
some  of  which  have  been  published  before. 
I  have  added  a  little  essay,  written  on  the 
occasion  of  the  first  Christmas  celebrated  by 
the  King  of  Italy  in  Rome. 

The  first  story  has  never  before  been  pub 
lished. 

It  is  but  fair  to  say  that  I  have  not  drawn 
on  imagination  for  Laura's  night  duty,  alone 
upon  her  island.  This  is  simply  the  account  of 
what  a  brave  New-England  woman  did,  under 
like  circumstances,  because  it  was  the  duty  next 
her  hand. 

If  any  reader  observes  a  resemblance  between 
her  position  and  that  of  a  boy  in  another  story 
in  this  volume,  I  must  disarm  censure,  by  say 
ing,  that  she  had  never  heard  of  him  when  she 
was  called  to  this  duty,  and  that  I  had  never 

heard  of  her  when  I  wrote  his  story. 

E.  E.  H. 


CONTENTS. 


THEY  SAW  A  GREAT  LIGHT i 

CHRISTMAS  WAITS  IN  BOSTON 40 

ALICE'S  CHRISTMAS-TREE 74 

DAILY  BREAD 98 

STAND  AND  WAIT 140 

THE  Two  PRINCES 188 

THE  STORY  OF  OELLO 205 

LOVE  is  THE  WHOLE 218 

CHRISTMAS  AND  ROME 232 

THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY 238 

THE  SAME  CHRISTMAS  IN  OLD  ENGLAND  AND  NEW  263 


THEY  SAW  A  GREAT  LIGHT. 


CHAPTER  I. 
ANOTHER  GENERATION. 

."  T  TERE  he  comes  !  here  he  comes  !  " 

"  He  "  was  the  "  post-rider,"  an  insti 
tution  now  almost  of  the  past.  He  rode  by  the 
house  and  threw  off  a  copy  of  the  "  Boston 
Gazette."  Now  the  "  Boston  Gazette,"  of  this 
particular  issue,  gave  the  results  of  the  drawing 
of  the  great  Massachusetts  State  Lottery  of  the 
Eastern  Lands  in  the  Waldo  Patent. 

Mr.  Cutts,  the  elder,  took  the  "  Gazette,"  and 
opened  it  with  a  smile  that  pretended  to  be 
careless  ;  but  even  he  showed  the  eager  anxiety 
which  they  all  felt,  as  he  tore  off  the  wrapper 
and  unfolded  the  fatal  sheet.  "  Letter  from 
London,"  "  Letter  from  Philadelphia,"  "  Child 
with  two  heads,"  —  thus  he  ran  down  the  col 
umns  of  the  little  page, — uneasily.  •"  Here  it 
is  !  here  it  is  !  —  Drawing  of  the  great  State 
l 


2  THEY  SAW   A   GBEAT  LIGHT. 

Lottery.  *  In  the  presence  of  the  Honourable 
Treasurer  of  the  Commonwealth,  and  of  their 
Honours  the  Commissioners  of  the  Honourable 
Council,  —  was  drawn  yesterday,  at  the  State 

House,  the  first  distribution  of  numbers ' 

here  are  the  numbers,  — '  First  combination, 
375-1.  Second,  421-7.  Third,  591-6.  Fourth, 
594-1.  Fifth,'  "—and  here  Mr.  Cutts  started 
off  his  feet,  —  "  '  Fifth,  219-7.'  Sybil,  my  dar 
ling  !  it  is  so !  219-7 !  See,  dear  child !  219- 
7  I  219-7  !  O  my  God  !  to  think  it  should  come 
so!" 

And  he  fairly  sat  down,  and  buried  his  head 
in  his  hands,  and  cried. 

The  others,  for  a  full  minute,  did  not  dare 
break  in  on  excitement  so  intense,  and  were 
silent;  but,  hi  a  minute  more,  of  course,  little 
Simeon,  the  youngest  of  the  tribes  who  were 
represented  there,  gained  courage  to  pick  up  the 
paper,  and  to  spell  out  again  the  same  words 
which  his  father  had  read  with  so  much  emo 
tion  ;  and,  with  his  sister  Sally,  who  came  to 
help  him,  to  add  to  the  store  of  information,  as 
to  what  prize  number  5  —  219-7  —  might  bring. 

For  this  was  a  lottery  in  which  there  were  no 
blanks.  The  old  Commonwealth  of  Massachu- 


THEY    SAW   A   GREAT    LIGHT.  3 

setts,  having  terrible  war  debts  to  pay  after  the 
Revolution,  had  nothing  but  lands  in  Maine  to 
pay  them  with.  Now  lands  in  Maine  were  not 
very  salable,  and,  if  the  simple  and  ordinary 
process  of  sale  had  been  followed,  the  lands 
might  not  have  been  sold  till  this  day.  So  they 
were  distributed  by  these  Lotteries,  which  in 
that  time  seemed  gigantic.  Every  ticket-holder 
had  some  piece  of  land  awarded  to  him,  I  think, 

—  but  to  the  most,  I  fear,  the  lands  were  hardly 
worth  the  hunting  up,  to  settle  upon.     But,  to 
induce  as  man}'-  to  buy  as  might,  there  were 
prizes.      No.  1,  I  think,  even  had  a  "  stately 
mansion  "  on  the  land,  —  according  to  the  adver 
tisement.     No.  2  had  some  special  water-power 
facilities.     No.  5,  which  Mr.  Cutts's  ticket  had 
drawn,  was  two  thousand  acres  on  Tripp's  Cove, 

—  described  in  the  programme  as  that  "well- 
known  Harbor  of  Refuge,  where  Fifty  Line  of 
Battle  Ship  could  lie  in  safety."     To  this  cove 
the  two  thousand  acres  so  adjoined  that  the  pro 
gramme  represented  them  as  the  site  of  the  great 
"  Mercantile  Metropolis  of  the  Future." 

Samuel  Cutts  was  too  old  a  man,  and  had 
already  tested  too  critically  his  own  powers  in 
what  the  world  calls  "  business,"  by  a  sad  satire, 


4  THEY  SAW  A   GREAT  LIGHT. 

to  give  a  great  deal  of  faith  to  the  promises  of  the 
prospectus,  as  to  the  commercial  prosperity  of 
Tripp's  Cove.  He  had  come  out  of  the  Revolu 
tion  a  Brigadier-General,  with  an  honorable 
record  of  service,  —  with  rheumatism  which 
would  never  be  cured,  —  with  a  good  deal  of 
paper  money  which  would  never  be  redeemed, 
which  the  Continent  and  the  Commonwealth 
had  paid  him  for  his  seven  years,  —  and  without 
that  place  in  the  world  of  peace  which  he  had 
had  when  these  years  began.  The  very  severest 
trial  of  the  Revolution  was  to  be  found  in  the 
condition  in  which  the  officers  of  the  army  were 
left  after  it  was  over.  They  were  men  who  had 
distinguished  themselves  in  their  profession,  and 
who  had  done  their  very  best  to  make  that  pro 
fession  unnecessary  in  the  future.  To  go  back 
to  their  old  callings  was  hard.  Other  men 
were  in  their  places,  and  there  did  not  seem  to 
be  room  for  two.  Under  the  wretched  political 
system  of  the  old  Confederation  there  was  no 
such  rapid  spring  of  the  material  prosperity  of 
the  country  as.  should  find  for  them  new  fields 
in  new  enterprise.  Peace  did  any  thing  but  lead 
in  Plenty.  Often  indeed,  in  history,  has  Plenty 
been  a  little  coy  before  she  could  be  tempted, 


THEY  SAW  A  GREAT  LIGHT.  5 

with  her  pretty  tender  feet,  to  press  the  stubble 
and  the  ashes  left  by  the  havoc  of  War.  And 
thus  it  was  that  General  Cutts  had  returned  to 
his  old  love  whom  he  had  married  in  a  leave  of 
absence  just  before  Bunker  Hill,  and  had  begun 
his  new  life  with  her  in  Old  Newbury  in  Massa 
chusetts,  at  a  time  when  there  was  little  opening 
for  him,  —  or  for  any  man  who  had  spent  seven 
years  in  learning  how  to  do  well  what  was  never 
to  be  done  again. 

And  in  doing  what  there  was  to  do  he  had 
not  succeeded.  He  had  just  squeezed  pork  and 
potatoes  and  Indian  meal  enough  out  of  a  worn- 
out  farm  to  keep  Sybil,  his  wife,  and  their  grow 
ing  family  of  children  alive.  He  had,  once  or 
twice,  gone  up  to  Boston  to  find  what  chances 
might  be  open  for  him  there.  But,  alas,  Boston 
was  in  a  bad  way  too,  as  well  as  Samuel  Cutts. 
Once  he  had  joined  some  old  companions,  who 
had  gone  out  to  the  Western  Reserve  in  North 
ern  Ohio,  to  see  what  opening  might  be  there. 
But  the  outlook  seemed  unfavorable  for  carrying 
so  far,  overland,  a  delicate  woman  and  six  little 
children  into  a  wilderness.  If  he  could  have 
scraped  together  a  little  money,  he  said,  he 
would  buy  a  share  in  one  of  the  ships  he  saw 


6  THEY  SAW   A  GREAT   LIGHT. 

rotting  in  Boston  or  Salem,  and  try  some  foreign 
adventure.  But,  alas !  the  ships  would  not  have 
i>oen  rotting  had  it  been  easy  for  any  man  to 
scrape  together  a  little  money  to  buy  them. 
And  so,  year  in  and  year  out,  Samuel  Cutts  and 
his  wife  dressed  the  children  more  and  more 
plainly,  bought  less  sugar  and  more  molasses, 
brought  down  the  family  diet  more  strictly  to 
pork  and  beans,  pea-soup,  hasty-pudding,  and 
rye-and-indian,  —  and  Samuel  Cutts  looked  more 
and  more  sadly  on  the  prospect  before  these 
boys  and  girls,  and  the  life  for  which  he  was 
training  them. 

Do  not  think  that  he  was  a  profligate,  my 
dear  cousin  Eunice,  because  he  had  bought  a 
lottery  ticket.  Please  to  observe  that  to  buy 
lottery  tickets  was  represented  to  be  as  much 
the  duty  of  all  good  citizens,  as  it  was  proved  to 
be,  eleven  years  ago,  your  duty  to  make  Have- 
locks  and  to  knit  stockings.  Samuel  Cutts,  in 
the  outset,  had  bought  his  lottery  ticket  only 
"  to  encourage  the  others,"  and  to  do  his  honor 
able  share  in  paying  the  war  debt.  Then,  I 
must  confess,  he  had  thought  more  of  the  ticket 
than  he  had  supposed  he  would.  The  children 
had  made  a  romance  about  it,  —  what  they 


THEY  SAW  A  GREAT   LIGHT.  7 

would  do,  and  what  they  would  not  do,  if  they 
drew  the  first  prize.  Samuel  Cutts  and  Sybil 
Cutts  themselves  had  got  drawn  into  the  inter 
est  of  the  children,  and  many  was  the  night 
when  they  had  sat  up,  without  any  light  but 
that  of  a  pine-torch,  planning  out  the  details  of 
the  little  colony  they  would  form  at  the  East 
ward, —  if — if  only  one  of  the  ten  great  prizes 
should,  by  any  marvel,  fall  to  him.  And  now 
Tripp's  Cove  —  which,  perhaps,  he  had  thought 
of  as  much  as  he  had  thought  of  any  of  the  ten 
— had  fallen  to  him.  This  was  the  reason  why 
he  showed  so  much  emotion,  and  why  he  could 
hardly  speak,  when  he  read  the  numbers.  It 
was  because  that  had  come  to  him  which  repre 
sented  so  completely  what  he  wanted,  and  yet 
which  he  had  not  even  dared  to  pray  for.  It 
was  so  much  more  than  he  expected, — it  was 
the  dream  of  years,  indeed,  made  true. 

For  Samuel  Cutts  had  proved  to  himself  that 
he  was  a  good  leader  of  men.  He  knew  he  was, 
and  many  men  knew  it  who  had  followed  him 
under  Carolina  suns,  and  in  the  snows  of  Valley 
Forge.  Samuel  Cutts  knew,  equally  well,  that 
he  was  not  a  good  maker  of  money,  nor  creator 
of  pork  and  potatoes.  Six  years  of  farming  in 


8  THEY  SAW  A  GREAT  LIGHT. 

the  valley  of  the  Merrimac  had  proved  that  to 
him,  if  he  had  never  learned  it  before.  Samuel 
Cutts's  dream  had  been,  when  he  went  away  to 
explore  the  Western  Reserve,  that  he  would 
like  to  bring  together  some  of  the  best  line 
officers  and  some  of  the  best  privates  of  the  old 
"  Fighting  Twenty-seventh,"  and  take  them,  with 
his  old  provident  skill,  which  had  served  them  so 
well  upon  so  many  camping-grounds,  to  some  re 
gion  where  they  could  stand  by  each  other  again, 
as  they  had  stood  by  each  other  before,  and  where 
sky  and  earth  would  yield  them  more  than  sky 
and  earth  have  yet  yielded  any  man  in  Eastern 
Massachusetts.  Well !  as  I  said,  the  Western 
Reserve  did  not  seem  to  be  the  place.  After  all, 
"  the  Fighting  Twenty-seventh  "  were  not  skilled 
in  the  tilling  of  the  land.  They  furnished  their 
quota  when  the  boats  were  to  be  drawn  through 
the  ice  of  the  Delaware,  to  assist  in  Rahl's  Christ 
mas  party  at  Trenton.  Many  was  the  embarka 
tion  at  the  "  head  of  Elk,"  in  which  the  "  Fight 
ing  Twenty-seventh"  had  provided  half  the 
seamen  for  the  transport.  It  was  "  the  Fighting 
Twenty-seventh"  who  cut  out  the  "Princess 
Charlotte "  cutter  in  Edisto  Bay.  But  the 
"  Fighting  Twenty-seventh  "  had  never,  so  far  as 


THEY   SAW  A   GKEAT   LIGHT.  9 

any  one  knew,  beaten  one  sword  into  one  plough 
share,  nor  one  spear  into  one  pruning-hook. 
But  Tripp's  Cove  seemed  to  offer  a  different 
prospect.  Why  not,  with  a  dozen  or  two  of  the 
old  set,  establish  there,  not  the  New  Jerusalem, 
indeed,  but  something  a  little  more  elastic,  a 
little  more  helpful,  a  little  more  alive,  than 
these  kiln-dried,  sun-dried,  and  time-dried  old 
towns  of  the  seaboard  of  Massachusetts  ?  At 
any  rate,  they  could  live  together  in  Tripp's 
Cove,  as  they  wintered  together  at  Valley 
Forge,  at  Bennett's  Hollow,  by  the  Green  Licks, 
and  in  the  Lykens  Intervale.  This  was  the 
question  which  Samuel  Cutts  wanted  to  solve, 
and  which  the  fatal  figures  219-7  put  him  in  the 
way  of  solving. 

"  Tripp's  Cove  is  our  Christmas  present,"  said 
Sybil  Cutts  to  her  husband,  as  they  went  to  bed. 
But  so  far  removed  were  the  habits  of  New 
England  then  from  the  observance  of  ecclesias 
tical  anniversaries,  that  no  one  else  had  remem 
bered  that  day  that  it  was  Christmas  which  waa 
passing. 


10  THEY  SAW  A   GREAT  LIGHT. 

CHAPTER  H. 
TBIPP'S     COVE. 

CALL  this  a  long  preface,  if  you  please,  but  it 
seems  to  me  best  to  tell  this  story  so  that  I  may 
explain  what  manner  of  people  those  were  and 
are  who  lived,  live,  and  will  live,  at  Tripp's 
Cove,  —  and  why  they  have  been,  are,  and  will 
be  linked  together,  with  a  sort  of  family  tie  and 
relationship  which  one  does  not  often  see  in  the 
villages  self-formed  or  formed  at  hap-hazard  on 
the  seaside,  on  the  hillside,  or  in  the  prairies  of 
America.  Tripp's  Cove  never  became  "  the 
Great  Mercantile  City  of  the  Future,"  nor  do  I 
believe  it  ever  will.  But  there  Samuel  Cutts 
lived  in  a  happy  life  for  fifty  years,  — and  there  he 
died,  honored,  blessed,  and  loved.  By  and  by 
there  came  the  second  war  with  England,  —  the 
"  Endymion  "  came  cruising  along  upon  the  coast, 
and  picking  up  the  fishing-boats  and  the  coasters, 
burning  the  ships  on  the  stocks,  or  compelling 
the  owners  to  ransom  them.  Old  General  Cutts 
was  seventy  years  old  then ;  but  he  was,  as  he 
had  always  been,  the  head  of  the  settlement  at 
Tripp's,  —  and  there  was  no  lack  of  men  younger 


THEY   SAW   A  GBEAT   LIGHT.  11 

than  he,  the  sergeants  or  the  high-privates  of 
the  "  Fighting  Twenty-seventh,"  who  drilled  the 
boys  of  the  village  for  whatever  service  might 
impend.  When  the  boys  went  down  to  Run- 
kin's  and  sent  the  "  Endymion's"  boats  back  to 
her  with  half  their  crews  dead  or  dying,  faster 
than  they  came,  old  General  Cutts  was  with 
them,  and  took  sight  on  his  rifle  as  quickly  and 
as  bravely  as  the  best  of  them.  And  so  twenty 
years  more  passed  on,  —  and,  when  he  was  well 
nigh  ninety,  the  dear  old  man  died  full  of  years 
and  full  of  blessings,  all  because  he  had  launched 
out  for  himself,  left  the  life  he  was  not  fit  for, 
and  undertaken  life  in  which  he  was  at  home. 

Yes!  and  because  of  this  also,  when  1861 
came  with  its  terrible  alarm  to  the  whole  coun 
try,  and  its  call  to  duty,  all  Tripp's  Cove  was 
all  right.  The  girls  were  eager  for  service,  and 
the  boys  were  eager  for  service.  The  girls  stood 
by  the  boys,  and  the  boys  stood  by  the  girls. 
The  husbands  stood  by  the  wives,  and  the  wives 
stood  by  the  husbands.  I  do  not  mean  that 
there  was  not  many  another  community  in 
which  everybody  was  steadfast  and  true.  But  I 
do  mean  that  here  was  one  great  family,  although 
the  census  rated  it  as  five-and-twenty  families, 


12  THEY  SAW  A   GREAT  LIGHT. 

—  which  had  one  heart  and  one  soul  in  the  con 
test,  and  which  went  into  it  with  one  heart  and 
one  soul,  —  every  man  and  every  woman  of  them 
all  bearing  each  other's  burdens. 

Little  Sim  Cutts,  who  broke  the  silence  that 
night  when  the  post-man  threw  down  the  "  Bos 
ton  Gazette,"  was  an  old  man  of  eighty-five 
when  they  all  got  the  news  of  the  shots  at  Fort 
Sumter.  The  old  man  was  as  hale  and  hearty  as 
are  half  the  men  of  sixty  in  this  land  to-day. 
With  all  his  heart  he  encouraged  the  boys  who 
volunteered  in  answer  to  the  first  call  for  regi 
ments  from  Maine.  Then  with  full  reliance 
on  the  traditions  of  the  "  Fighting  Twenty- 
seventh,"  he  explained  to  the  fishermen  and  the 
coasters  that  Uncle  A.braham  would  need  them 
for  his  web-footed  service,  as  well  as  for  his 
legions  on  the  land.  And  they  found  out  their 
ways  to  Portsmouth  and  to  Charlestown,  so  that 
they  might  enter  the  navy  as  their  brothers 
entered  the  army.  And  so  it  was,  that,  when 
Christmas  came  in  1861,  there  was  at  Tripp's 
Cove  only  one  of  that  noble  set  of  young  fellows, 
who  but  a  year  before  was  hauling  hemlock  and 
spruce  and  fir  and  pine  at  Christmas  at  the 
girls'  order,  and  worked  in  the  meeting-house  for 


THEY   SAW  A  GBEAT  LIGHT.  13 

two  days  as  the  girls  bade  them  work,  so  that 
when  Parson  Spaulding  came  in  to  preach  his 
Christmas  sermon,  he  thought  the  house  was  a 
bit  of  the  woods  themselves.  Only  one  I 

And  who  was  he  ? 

How  did  he  dare  stay  among  all  those  girls 
who  were  crying  out  their  eyes,  and  sewing  their 
fingers  to  the  bones,  —  meeting  every  afternoon 
in  one  sitting-room  or  another,  and  devouring 
every  word  that  came  from  the  army  ?  They 
read  the  worst-spelled  letter  that  came  home 
from  Mike  Sawin,  and  prized  it  and  blessed  it 
and  cried  over  it,  as  heartily  as  the  noblest  de 
scription  of  battle  that  came  from  the  pen  of 
Carleton  or  of  Swinton. 

Who  was  he  ? 

Ah  !  I  have  caught  you,  have  I  ?  That  was 
Tom  Cutts,  —  the  old  General's  great-grand 
son,  —  Sim  Cutts's  grandson,  —  the  very  noblest 
and  bravest  of  them  all.  He  got  off  first  of  all. 
He  had  the  luck  to  be  at  Bull  Run,  —  and  to  be 
cut  off  from  his  regiment.  He  had  the  luck  to 
hide  under  a  corn  crib,  and  to  come  into  Wash 
ington  whole,  a  week  after  the  regiment.  He 
was  the  first  man  in  Maine,  they  said,  to  enlist 
for  the  three-years'  service.  Perhaps  the  same 


14  THEY  SAW  A  GREAT   LIGHT. 

thing  is  said  of  many  others.  He  had  come 
home  and  raised  a  new  company,  —  and  he 
was  making  them  fast  into  good  soldiers,  out 
beyond  Fairfax  Court-House.  So  that  the 
Brigadier  would  do  any  thing  Tom  Cutts 
wanted.  And  when,  on  the  first  of  December, 
there  came  up  to  the  Major-General  in  command 
a  request  for  leave  of  absence  from  Tom  Cutts, 
respectfully  referred  to  Colonel  This,  who  had 
respectfully  referred  it  to  General  That,  who 
had  respectfully  referred  it  to  Adjutant-General 
T'other,  —  all  these  dignitaries  had  respectfully 
recommended  that  the  request  be  granted.  For 
even  in  the  sacred  purlieux  of  the  top  Major- 
General's  Head-quarters,  it  was  understood  that 
Cutts  was  going  home  for  no  less  a  purpose  than 
the  being  married  to  the  prettiest  and  sweetest 
and  best  girl  in  Eastern  Maine. 

Well !  for  my  part  I  do  not  think  that  the 
aids  and  their  informants  were  in  the  wrong 
about  this.  Surely  that  Christmas  Eve,  as  Laura 
Marvel  stood  up  with  Tom  Cutts  in  front  of 
Parson  Spaulding,  in  presence  of  what  there 
was  left  of  the  Tripp's  Cove  community,  I 
would  have  said  that  Laura  was  the  loveliest 
bride  I  ever  saw.  She  is  tall  she  is  graceful  j 


'TATc  ynoi 
It  HUnlrt... 

THEY   SAW   A   GREAT  LIGHT.  15 

Cos  Angeles,  Cau 

she  has  rather  a  startled  look  when  you  speak 
to  her,  suddenly  or  gently,  but  the  startled  look 
just  bewitches  you.  Black  hair,  —  she  got  that 
from  the  Italian  blood  in  her  grandmother's 
family,  —  exquisite  blue  eyes,  —  that  is  a  charm 
ing  combination  with  black  hair,  —  perfect  teeth, 
—  and  matchless  color, — and  she  had  it  all,  when 
she  was  married,  —  she  was  a  blushing  bride 
and  not  a  fainting  one.  But  then  what  stuff 
this  is,  —  nobody  knew  he  cared  a  straw  for 
Laura's  hair  or  her  cheek,  —  it  was  that  she 
looked  "just  lovely,"  and  that  she  was  "just 
lovely,"  —  so  self-forgetful  in  all  her  ways, 
after  that  first  start,  —  so  eager  to  know  just 
where  she  could  help,  and  so  determined  to  help 
just  there.  Why  !  she  led  all  the  girls  in  the 
village,  when  she  was  only  fourteen,  because  they 
loved  her  so.  She  was  the  one  who  made  the 
rafts  when  there  was  a  freshet,  —  and  took  them 
all  out  together  on  the  mill-pond.  And,  when 
the  war  came,  she  was  of  course  captain  of  the 
girl's  sewing,  —  she  packed  the  cans  of  pickles 
and  fruit  for  the  Sanitary,  —  she  corresponded 
with  the  State  Adjutant :  —  heavens  !  from  morn 
ing  to  night,  everybody  in  the  village  ran  to 
Laura,  —  not  because  she  was  the  prettiest 


16  THEY  SAW  A  GREAT  LIGHT. 

creature  you  ever  looked  upon,  —  but  because 
she  was  the  kindest,  truest,  most  loyal,  and  most 
helpful  creature  that  ever  lived,  —  be  the  same 
man  or  woman. 

Now  had  you  rather  be  named  Laura  Cutts 
or  Laura  Marvel  ?  Marvel  is  a  good  name,  —  a 
weird,  miraculous  sort  of  name. "  Cutts  is  not 
much  of  a  name.  But  Laura  had  made  up  her 
mind  to  be  Laura  Cutts  after  Tom  had  asked 
her  about  it,  —  and  here  they  are  standing 
before  dear  old  Parson  Spaulding,  to  receive 
his  exhortation,  —  and  to  be  made  one  before 
God  and  man. 

Dear  Laura !  How  she  had  laughed  with  the 
other  girls,  all  in  a  good-natured  way,  at  the 
good  Parson's  exhortation  to  the  young  couples. 
Laura  had  heard  it  twenty  times,  —  for  she  had 
"  stood  up  "  with  twenty  of  the  girls,  who  had 
dared  The  Enterprise  of  Life  before  her  I  Nay, 
Laura  could  repeat,  with  all  the  emphasis, 
the  most  pathetic  passage  of  the  whole,  —  "  And 
above  all,  —  my  beloved  young  friends,  —  first 
of  all  and  last  of  all,  —  let  me  beseech  you  as 
you  climb  the  hill  of  life  together,  hand  with 
hand,  and  step  with  step,  —  that  you  will  look 
beyond  the  crests  upon  its  summit  to  the  eternal 


THEY   SAW   A   GREAT  LIGHT.  17 

lights  which  blaze  in  the  infinite  heaven  of  the 
Better  Land  beyond."  Twenty  times  had 
Laura  heard  this  passage,  —  nay,  ten  times, 
I  am-. afraid,  had  she,  in  an  honest  and  friendly 
way,  repeated  it,  under  strict  vows  of  secrecy, 
to  the  edification  of  circles  of  screaming  girls. 
But  now  the  dear  child  looked  truly  and  loyally 
into  the  old  man's  face,  as  he  went  on  from 
word  to  word,  and  only  thought  of  him,  and  of 
how  noble  and  true  he  was,  —  and  of  the  Great 
Master  whom  he  represented  there,  —  and  it  was 
just  as  real  to  her  and  to  Tom  Cutts  that  'they 
must  look  into  the  Heaven  of  heavens  for  life 
and  strength,  as  Parson  Spaulding  wanted  it  to 
be.  When  he  prayed  with  all  his  heart,  she 
prayed  ;  what  he  hoped,  she  hoped ;  what  he 
promised  for  her,  she  promised  to  her  Father  in 
heaven  ;  and  what  he  asked  her  to  promise  by 
word  aloud,  she  promised  loyally  and  eter 
nally. 

And  Tom  Cutts  ?  He  looked  so  handsome 
in  his  uniform,  —  and  he  looked  like  the  man  he 
was.  And  in  those  days,  the  uniform,  if  it  were 
only  a  flannel  fatigue-jacket  on  a  private's  back, 
was  as  beautiful  as  the  flag;  nothing  more 
beautiful  than  either  for  eyes  to  look  upon. 

2 


18  THEY  SAW  A  GKEAT  LIGHT. 

And  when  Parson  Spaulding  had  said  the  bene 
diction,  and  the  Amen, —  and  when  he  had  kissed 
Laura,  with  her  eyes  full  of  tears, — and  when  he 
had  given  Tom  Cutts  joy,  —  then  all  the  people 
came  up  in  a  double  line,  —  and  they  all  kissed 
Laura,  —  and  they  shook  hands  with  Tom  as  if 
they  would  shake  his  hands  off,  —  and  in  the  half- 
reticent  methods  of  Tripp's  Cove,  every  lord 
and  lady  bright  that  was  in  Moses  Marvel's  par 
lor  there,  said,  "  honored  be  the  bravest  knight, 
beloved  the  fairest  fair." 

And  there  was  a  bunch  of  laurel  hanging  in 
the  middle  of  the  room,  as  make-believe  mis 
tletoe.  And  the  boys,  who  could  not  make 
believe  even  that  they  were  eighteen,  so  that 
they  had  been  left  at  home,  would  catch  Phebe, 
and  Sarah,  and  Mattie,  and  Helen,  when  by  ac 
cident  they  crossed  underneath  the  laurel,  —  and 
would  kiss  them,  for  all  their  screaming.  And 
soon  Moses  Marvel  brought  in  a  waiter  with 
wedding-cake,  and  Nathan  Philbrick  brought  in 
a  waiter  with  bride-cake,  and  pretty  Mattie 
Marvel  brought  in  a  waiter  with  currant  wine. 
And  'Tom  Cutts  gave  every  girl  a  piece  of  wed 
ding-cake  himself,  and  made  her  promise  to  sleep 
on  it.  And  before  they  were  all  gone,  he  and 


THEY   SAW   A   GEEAT  LIGHT.  19 

Laura  had  been  made  to  write  names  for  the 
girls  to  dream  upon,  that  they  might  draw  their 
fortunes  the  next  morning.  And  before  long 
Moses  Cutts  led  Mrs.  Spaulding  out  into  the 
great  family-room,  and  there  was  the  real  wed 
ding  supper.  And  after  they  had  eaten  the 
supper,  Bengel's  fiddle  sounded  in  the  parlor, 
and  they  danced,  and  they  waltzed,  and  they 
polked  to  their  hearts'  content.  And  so  they 
celebrated  the  Christmas  of  1861. 

Too  bad !  was  not  it  ?  Tom's  leave  was  only 
twenty  days.  It  took  five  to  come.  It  took 
five  to  go.  After  the  wedding  there  were  but 
seven  little  days.  And  then  he  kissed  dear 
Laura  good-by,  —  with  tears  running  from  his 
eyes  and  hers,  —  and  she  begged  him  to  be  sure 
she  should  be  all  right,  and  he  begged  her  to  be 
certain  nothing  would  happen  to  him.  And  so, 
for  near  two  years,  they  did  not  see  each  other' a 
faces  again. 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  again ! 

Moses  Marvel  has  driven  out  his  own  bays 
in  his  own  double  cutter  to  meet  the  stage  at 
Fordyce's.  On  the  back  seat  is  Mattie  Marvel 


20  THEY   SAW  A  GBEAT  LIGHT. 

with  a  rosy  little  baby  all  wrapped  up  in  furs,  who 
has  never  seen  his  father.  Where  is  Laura  ? 

"  Here  she  comes  !  here  she  comes  !  "  Sure 
enough !  Here  is  the  stage  at  last.  Job  Stiles 
never  swept  round  with  a  more  knowing  sweep, 
or  better  satisfied  with  his  precious  freight  at 
Fordyce's,  than  he  did  this  afternoon.  And  the 
curtains  were  up  already.  And  there  is  Laura, 
and  there  is  Tom !  He  is  pale,  poor  fellow. 
But  how  pleased  he  is!  Laura  is  out  first,  of 
course.  And  then  she  gives  him  her  hand  so 
gently,  and  the  others  all  help.  And  here  is  the 
hero  at  Marvel's  side,  and  he  is  bending  over  his 
baby,  whom  he  does  not  try  to  lift  with  his  one 
arm,  —  and  Mattie  is  crying,  and  I  believe  old 
Moses  Marvel  is  crying,  —  but  everybody  is  as 
happy  as  a  king,  and  everybody  is  talking  at  one 
time,  —  and  all  the  combination  has  turned  out 
well. 

Tom  Cutts  had  had  a  hole  made  through  his 
left  thigh,  so  that  they  despaired  of  his  life. 
And,  as  he  lay  on  the  ground,  a  bit  of  a  shell 
had  struck  his  left  forearm  and  knocked  that 
to  pieces.  Tom  Cutts  had  been  sent  back  to 
hospital  at  Washington,  and  reported  by  tele 
graph  as  mortally  wounded.  But  almost  as 


THEY   SAW   A   GBEAT   LIGHT.  21 

soon  as  Tom  Cutts  got  to  the  Lincoln  Hospital 
himself,  Laura  Cutts  got  there  too,  and  then 
Tom  did  not  mean  to  die  if  he  could  help  it,  and 
Laura  did  not  mean  to  have  him.  And  the 
honest  fellow  held  to  his  purpose  in  that  stead 
fast  Cutts  way.  The  blood  tells,  I  believe. 
And  'love  tells.  And  will  tells.  How  much 
love  has  to  do  with  will !  "  I  believe  you  are  a 
witch,  Mrs.  Cutts,"  the  doctor  used  to  say  to 
her.  "  Nothing  but  good  happens  to  this  good- 
man  of  yours."  Bits  of  bone  came  out  just  as 
they  were  wanted  to.  Inflammation  kept  away 
just  as  it  was  told  to  do.  And  the  two  wounds 
ran  a  race  with  each  other  in  healing  after  their 
fashion.  "  It  will  be  a  beautiful  stump  after 
all,"  said  .the  doctor,  where  poor  Laura  saw 
little  beauty.  But  every  thing  was  beautiful  to 
her,  when  at  last  he  told  her  that  she  might 
wrap  her  husband  up  as  well  as  she  knew  how, 
and  take  him  home  and  nurse  him  there.  So 
she  had  telegraphed  that  they  were  coming,  and 
that  was  the  way  in  which  it  happened  that  her 
father  and  her  sister  had  brought  out  the  baby 
to  meet  them  both  at  Fordyce's.  Mattie's  sur 
prise  had  worked  perfectly. 

And  now  it  was  time  for  Laura's  surprise ! 


22  THEY   SAW   A   GKEAT   LIGHT. 

After  she  had  her  baby  in  her  own  arms,  and 
was  on  the  back  seat  of  the  sleigh ;  after  Tom 
was  well  wrapped  up  by  her  side,  with  his  well 
arm  just  supporting  the  little  fellow's  head; 
after  Mattie  was  all  tucked  in  by  her  father, 
and  Mr.  Marvel  himself  had  looked  round  to 
say,  "  All  ready  ?  "  then  was  it  that  Jem  Marvel 
first  stepped  out  from  the  stage,  and  said, 
"  Haven't  you  one  word  for  me,  Mattie  ? " 
Then  how  they  soreamed  again  !  For  every 
body  thought  Jem  was  in  the  West  Indies.  He 
was  cruising  there,  on  board  the  "  Greywing," 
looking  after  blockaders  who  took  the  Southern 
route.  Nobody  dreamed  of  Jem's  being  at 
Christmas.  And  here  he  had  stumbled  on  Tom 
and  Laura  in  the  New  Haven  train  a§  they  came 
on  !  Jem  had  been  sent  into  New  York  with  a 
prize.  He  had  got  leave,  and  was  on  his  way  to 
see  the  rest  of  them.  He  had  bidden  Laura  not 
say  one  word,  and  so  he  had  watched  one  greet 
ing  from  the  stage,  before  he  broke  in  to  take 
his  part  for  another. 

Oh !  what  an  uproarious  Christmas  that  was 
when  they  all  came  home  I  No !  Tom  Cutts 
would  not  let  one  of  them  be  sad  !  He  was  the 
cheeriest  of  them  all.  He  monopolized  the  baby, 


THEY  SAW   A   GREAT   LIGHT.  23 

and  showed  immense  power  in  the  way  of  baby 
talk  and  of  tending.  Laura  had  only  to  sit  on 
the  side  of  the  room  and  be  perfectly  happy. 
It  was  very  soon  known  what  the  arrivals  were. 
And  Parson  Spaulding  came  in,  and  his  wife.  Of 
course  the  Cuttses  had  been  there  already. 
Then  everybody  came.  That  is  the  simplest 
way  of  putting  it.  They  all  would  have  wanted 
to  come,  because  in  that  community  there  was 
not  one  person  who  did  not  love  Laura  and  Tom 
and  Jem.  But  whether  they  would  have 
come,  on  the  very  first  night,  I  am  not  sure. 
But  this  was  Christmas  Eve,  and  the  girls  were 
finishing  off  the  meeting-house  just  as  the  stage 
and  the  sleigh  came  in.  And,  in  a  minute,  the 
news  was  everywhere.  And,  of  course,  every 
body  felt  he  might  just  go  in  to  get  news  from 
the  fleet  or  the  army.  Nor  was  there  one 
household  in  Tripp's  Cove  which  was  not  more  or 
less  closely  represented  in  the  fleet  or  the  army. 
So  there  was  really,  as  the  evening  passed,  a 
town-meeting  in  Moses  Marvel's  sitting-room 
and  parlor ;  and  whether  Moses  Marvel  were 
most  pleased,  or  Mrs.  Marvel,  or  Laura,  —  who 
sat  and  beamed,  —  or  old  General  Simeon  Cutts, 
I  am  sure  1  do  not  know. 


24  THEY   SAW  A   GREAT  LIGHT. 

That  was  indeed  a  merry  Christmas  ! 
,  But  after  that  I  must  own  it  was  hard  sled 
ding  for  Tom  Cutts  and  for  pretty  Laura.  A 
hero  with  one  blue  sleeve  pinned  neatly  together, 
who,  at  the  best,  limps  as  he  walks,  quickens 
all  your  compassion  and  gratitude  ;  —  yes  !  But 
when  you  are  selecting  a  director  of  your  lumber 
works,  or  when  you  are  sending  to  New  York 
to  buy  goods,  or  when  you  are  driving  a  line  of 
railway  through  the  wilderness,  I  am  afraid  you 
do  not  choose  that  hero  to  do  your  work  for  you. 
Or  if  you  do,  you  were  not  standing  by  when 
Tom  Cutts  was  looking  right  and  looking  left 
for  something  to  do,  so  that  he  might  keep  the 
wolf  from  the  door.  It  was  sadly  like  the  life 
that  his  great-grandfather,  Samuel  Cutts,  led  at 
the  old  farm  in  old  Newbury  after  the  old  war. 
Tom  lost  his  place  when  he  went  to  the  front, 
and  he  could  not  find  it  again. 

Laura,  sweet  girl,  never  complained.  No, 
nor  Moses  Marvel.  He  never  complained,  nor 
would  he  complain  if  Tom  and  his  wife  and 
children  had  lived  with  him  till  doomsday. 
"  Good  luck  for  us,"  said  Moses  Marvel,  and 
those  were  many  words  for  him  to  say  in  one 
sentence.  But  Tom  was  proud,  and  it  ground 


THEY   SAW   A   GREAT  LIGHT.  26 

him  to  the  dust  to  be  eating  Moses  Marvel's 
bread  when  he  had  not  earned  it,  and  to  have 
nothing  but  his  major's  pension  to  buy  Laura 
and  the  babies  their  clothes  with,  and  to  keep 
the  pot  a-boiling. 

Of  course  Jem  joined  the  fleet  again.  Nor 
did  Jem  return  again  till  the  war  was  over. 
Then  he  came,  and  came  with  prize-money.  He 
and  Tom  had  many  talks  of  going  into  business 
together,  with  Tom's  brains  and  Jem's  money. 
But  nothing  came  of  this.  The  land  was  no 
place  for  Jem.  He  was  a  regular  Norse  man, 
as  are  almost  all  of  the  Tripp's  Cove  boys  who 
have  come  from  the  loins  of  the  "  Fighting 
Twenty-seventh."  They  sniff  the  tempest  from 
afar  off;  and  when  they  hear  of  Puget  Sound, 
or  of  Alaska,  or  of  Wilkes's  Antarctic  Continent, 
they  fancy  that  they  hear  a  voice  from  some 
long-lost  home,  from  which  they  have  strayed 
away.  And  so  Lam  a  knew,  and  Tom  knew, 
that  any  plans  which  rested  on  Jem's  stay 
ing  ashore  were  plans  which  had  one  false 
element  in  them.  The  raven  would  be  calling 
him,  and  it  might  be  best,  once  for  all,  to  iel 
him  follow  the  raven  till  the  raven  called  no 
more. 


26  THEY  SAW   A  GKEAT  LIGHT. 

So  Jem  put  his  prize-money  into  a  new  bark, 
which  he  found  building  at  Bath ;  and  they 
called  the  bark  the  "  Laura,"  and  Tom  and 
Laura  Cutts  went  to  the  launching,  and  Jem 
superintended  the  rigging  of  her  himself;  and 
then  he  took  Tom  and  Laura  and  the  babies 
with  him  to  New  York,  and  a  high  time  they 
had  together  there.  Tom  saw  many  of  the  old 
army  boys,  and  Laura  hunted  up  one  or  two  old 
school  friends ;  and  they  saw  Booth  in  lago, 
and  screamed  themselves  hoarse  at  Niblo's,  and 
heard  Rudolphsen  and  Jobannsen  in  the  Ger 
man  opera;  they  rode  in  the  Park,  and  they 
walked  in  the  Park ;  they  browsed  in  the  Astor 
and  went  shopping  at  Stewart's,  and  saw  the 
people  paint  porcelain  at  Haighwout's ;  and,  by 
Mr.  Alden's  kindness,  went  through  the  won 
ders  of  Harpers.  In  short,  for  three  weeks,  all 
of  which  time  they  lived  on  board  ship,  they 
saw  the  lions  of  New  York  as  children  of  the 
public  do,  for  whom  that  great  city  decks  itself 
and  prepares  its  wonders,  albeit  their  existence 
is  hardly  known  to  its  inhabitants. 

Meanwhile  Jem  had  chartered  the  "Laura" 
for  a  voyage  to  San  Francisco.  And  so,  before 
1  mg,  her  cargo  began  to  come  on  board ;  and 


THEY   SAW   A   GREAT   LIGHT.  27 

she  and  Toiil  and  the  babies  took  a  mournful 
farewell,  and  came  back  to  Tripp's  Cove  again, 
to  Moses  Marvel's  house.  And  poor  Tom 
thought  it  looked  smaller  than  ever,  and  that 
he  should  find  it  harder  than  ever  to  settle  down 
to  being  of  no  use  to  anybody,  and  to  eat  Moses 
Marvel's  bread,  — without  house  or  barn,  or  bin 
or  oven,  or  board  or  bed,  even  the  meanest,  of 
his  own.  Poor  Tom  !  and  this  was  the  reward 
of  being  the  first  man  in  Maine  to  enter  for 
three  years  ! 

And  then  things  went  worse  and  worse. 
Moses  Marvel  was  as  good  and  as  taciturn  as 
ever.  But  Moses  Marvel's  affairs  did  not  run 
as  smoothly  as  he  liked.  Moses  held  on,  upon 
one  year's  cutting  of  lumber,  perfectly  deter 
mined  that  lumber  should  rise,  because  it  ought 
to ;  and  Moses  paid  very  high  usury  on  the 
money  he  borrowed,  because  he  would  hold  on. 
Moses  was  set  in  his  way,  —  like  other  persons 
whom  you  and  I  know,  —  and  to  this  lumber  he 
held  and  held,  till  finally  the  bank  would  not 
renew  his  notes.  No ;  and  they  would  not  dis 
count  a  cent  for  him  at  Bangor,  and  Moses 
came  back  from  a  long,  taciturn  journey  he  had 
started  on  in  search  of  money,  without  any 


28  THEY  SAW  A  GREAT  LIGHT. 

money ,  and  with  only  the  certainty  that  if  he 
did  not  mean  to  have  the  sheriff  sell  his  lumber, 
he  must  sell  it  for  himself.  Nay !  he  must  sell 
it  before  the  fourth  of  the  next  month,  and  for 
cash ;  and  must  sell  at  the  very  bottom  of  a  long 
falling  market !  Poor  Moses  Marvel !  That 
operation  served  to  show  that  he  joined  all  the 
Cutts  want  of  luck  with  the  Marvel  obstinacy. 
It  was  a  wretched  twelvemonth,  the  whole  of 
it ;  and  it  made  that  household,  and  made  Tom 
Cutts,  more  miserable  and  more. 

Then  they  became  anxious  about  the  "  Laura," 
and  Jem.  She  made  almost  a  clipper  voyage  to 
California.  She  discharged  her  cargo  in  perfect 
order.  Jem  made  a  capital  charter  for  Aus 
tralia  and  England,  and  knew  that  from  Eng 
land  it  would  be  easy  to  get  a  voyage  home. 
He  sailed  from  California,  and  then  the  letters 
stopped.  No  !  Laura  dear,  no  need  in  reading 
every  word  of  the  ship-news  in  the  "  Semi-weekly 
Advertiser  ;  "  the  name  of  your  namesake  is  not 
there.  Eight,  nine,  ten  months  have  gone  by, 
and  there  is  no  port  in  Christendom  which  has 
seen  Jem's  face,  or  the  Laura's  private  signal. 
Do  not  strain  your  eyes  over  the  "  Semi- weekly  M 
more. 


THEY  SAW   A   GKEAT  LIGHT.  29 

No !  dear  Laura's  eyes  will  be  dimmed  by 
other  cares  than  the  ship-news.  Tom's  father, 
who  had  shared  Tom's  wretchedness,  and  would 
gladly  have  had  them  at  his  home,  but  that  Moses 
Marvel's  was  the  larger  and  the  less  peopled 
of  the  two,  —  Tom's  father  was  brought  home 
speechless  one  day,  by  the  men  who  found  him 
where  he  had  fallen  on  the  road,  his  yoke  of 
oxen  not  far  away,  waiting  for  the  voice  which 
they  were  never  to  hear  again.  Whether  he 
had  fallen  from  the  cart,  in  some  lurch  it  made, 
and  broken  his  spine,  or  whether  all  this  distress 
had  brought  on  of  a  sudden  a  stroke  of  paralysis, 
so  that  he  lost  his  consciousness  before  he  fell,  I 
do  not  know.  Nor  do  I  see  that  it  matters 
much,  though  the  chimney-corners  of  Tripp's 
Cove  discuss  the  question  quite  eagerly  to  this 
hour.  He  lay  there  month  after  month,  really 
unconscious.  He  smiled  gently  when  they 
brought  him  food.  He  tried  to  say  "  Thank 
you,"  they  thought,  but  he  did  not  speak  to  the 
wife  of  his  bosom,  who 'had  been  the  Laura 
Marvel  of  her  day,  in  any  different  way  from 
that  in  which  he  tried  to  speak  to  any  stranger 
of  them  all.  A  living  death  he  lay  in  as  those 
tedious  months  went  by. 


80  THEY  SAW  A  GBEAT  LIGHT. 

Yet  my  dear  Laura  was  as  cheerful,  and  hope 
ful,  and  buoyant  as  ever.  Tom  Cutts  himself 
was  ashamed  to  brood  when  he  got  a  sight  of 
her.  Mother  Cutts  herself  would  lie  down  and 
rest  herself  when  Laura  came  round,  with  the 
two  children,  as  she  did  every  afternoon.  Moses 
Marvel  himself  was  less  taciturn  when  Laura 
put  the  boys,  one  at  one  side,  one  at  the  other, 
of  his  chair,  at  the  tea-table.  And  in  both  of 
those  broken  households,  from  one  end  to  the 
other,  they  knew  the  magic  of  dear  Laura's 
spells.  So  that  when  this  Christmas  came,  after 
poor  Mr.  Cutts  had  been  lying  senseless  so  long, 
—  when  dear  Laura  bade  them  all  take  hold  and 
fit  up  a  Christmas-tree,  with  all  the  adornments, 
for  the  little  boys,  and  for  the  Spaulding  children, 
and  the  Marvel  cousins,  and  the  Hopkinses,  and 
the  Tredgolds,  and  the  Newmarch  children, — 
they  all  obeyed  her  loyally,  and  without  wonder 
ing.  They  obeyed  her,  with  her  own  determin 
ation  that  they  would  have  one  merry  Christmas 
more.  It  seems  a  strange  thing  to  people  who 
grew  up  outside  of  New  England.  But  this 
was  the  first  Christmas  tree  ever  seen  at  Tripp's 
Cove,  for  all  such  festivities  are  of  recent 
importation  in  such  regions.  But  there  was 


THEY   SAW  A  GREAT  LIGHT.  81 

something  for  every  child.  They  heaped  on 
more  wood,  and  they  kept  a  merry  Christmas 
despite  the  storm  without.  This  was  Laura's 
will,  and  Laura  had  her  way. 

And  she  had  her  reward.  Job  Stiles  came 
round  to  the  door,  when  he  had  put  up  his 
horses,  and  called  Tom  out,  and  gave  him  a 
letter  which  he  had  brought  from  Ellsworth. 
Arid  Tom  read  the  letter,  and  he  called  Laura 
to  read  it.  And  Laura  left  the  children,  and 
sat  at  the  kitchen  table  with  him  and  read  it, 
and  said,  "  Thank  God !  this  is  a  Christmas 
present  indeed.  Could  any  thing  in  this  world 
be  better  ?  " 

This  is  the  letter :  — 

JOHN    WILD  AIR    TO    TOM    CUTTS. 

DEAR  TOM,  —  I  am  just  back  from  Wash 
ington.  I  have  seen  them  all,  and  have  done 
my  best,  and  have  failed.  They  say  and  I 
believe  that  the  collectorship  was  promised 
to  Waters  before  the  old  man's  death,  —  that 
Waters  had  honest  claims,  —  he  has  but  one 
leg,  you  know,  —  and  that  it  must  go  to  him. 
As  for  the  surveyorship,  the  gift  of  that  is 
with  Plumptre.  And  you  know  that  I  might 


82  THEY   SAW  A  GEEAT  LIGHT. 

as  well  ask  the  Pope  to  give  me  any  thing 
as  he.  And  if  he  hates  anybody  more  than 
me,  why  it  is  your  wife's  father.  So  I  could 
do  nothing  there. 

Let  me  say  this,  though  it  seems  nothing. 
If,  while  we  are  waiting  to  look  round,  you  like 
to  take  the  Bell  and  Hammer  Light-house,  you 
may  have  the  place  to-morrow.  Of  course  I 
know  it  is  exile  in  winter.  But  in  summer  it 
is  lovely.  You  have  your  house,  your  stores, 
two  men  under  you  (they  are  double  lights), 
and  a  thousand  dollars.  I  have  made  them 
promise  to  give  it  to  no  one  till  they  hear  from 
me.  Though  I  know  you  ought  not  take  any 
such  place,  I  would  not  refuse  it  till  I  let  you 
know.  I  send  this  to  Ellsworth  for  the  stage 
driver  to  take,  and  you  must  send  your  answer 
by  special  messenger,  that  I  may  telegraph  to 
Washington  at  once. 

I  am  very  sorry,  dear  Tom,  to  have  failed  you 
so.     But   I  did  my  best,   you   know.      Merry 
Christmas  to  Laura  and  the  babies. 
Truly  yours, 

JOHN  WILDAIB. 

PORTLAND  Dec.  24,  1868. 


THEY   SAW  A  GREAT  LIGHT.  83 

That  was  Laura  and  Tom's  Christmas  present. 
An  appointment  as  light-house  keeper,  with  a 
thousand  a  year ! 


BUT  even  if  they  had  made  Tom  a  turnpike 
keeper,  they  would  not  have  made  Laura  a  mis 
anthrope.  He,  poor  fellow,  gladly  accepted  the 
appointment.  She,  sweet  creature,  as  gladly 
accepted  her  part  of  it.  Early  March  saw 
them  on  the  Bell  and  Hammer.  April  saw  the 
early  flowers  come,  —  and  May  saw  Laura  with 
both  her  babies  on  the  beach,  laughing  at  them 
as  they  wet  their  feet,  —  digging  holes  in  the 
sand  for  them,  —  and  sending  the  bigger  boy  to 
run  and  put  salt  upon  the  tails  of  the  peeps  as 
they  ran  along  the  shore.  And  Tom  Cutts, 
when  his  glass  was  clear  to  his  mind,  and  the 
reflectors  polished  to  meet  even  his  criticism, 
would  come  down  and  hunt  up  Laura  and  the 
children.  And  when  she  had  put  the  babies  to 
sleep,  old  Mipples,  who  was  another  of  the 
descendants  of  the  "  Fighting  Twenty-seventh," 
would  say,  "  Just  you  go  out  with  the  Major, 
mum;  and  if  they  wake  up  and  I  can't  still 
them,  I'll  blow  the  horn."  Not  that  he  ever 
did  blow  the  horn.  All  the  more  certain  was 
3 


34  THEY   SAW   A   GREAT   LIGHT. 

Laura  that  she  could  tramp  over  the  whole 
island  with  Tom  Cutts,  or  she  could  sit  and 
knit  or  sew,  and  Tom  could  read  to  her,  and  these 
days  were  the  happiest  days  of  her  married  life, 
and  brought  back  the  old  sunny  days  of  the 
times  before  Fort  Sumter  again.  Ah  me !  if 
such  days  of  summer  and  such  days  of 
autumn  would  last  forever ! 

But  they  will  not  last  forever.  November 
came,  and  the  little  colony  went  into  winter 
quarters.  December  came.  And  we  were  all 
double-banked  with  sea-weed.  The  stoves 
were  set  up  in-doors.  The  double  doors  were 
put  on  outside,  and  we  were  all  ready  for  the 
"  Osprey."  The  "  Osprey  "  was  the  Government 
steamer  which  was  to  bring  us  our  supplies  for 
the  winter,  chiefly  of  colza  oil,  —  and  perhaps 
some  coal.  But  the  "  Osprey  "  does  not  appear. 
December  is  half  gone,  and  no  "  Osprey."  We 
can  put  the  stoves  on  short  allowance,  but  not 
our  two  lanterns.  They  will  only  run  to  the 
31st  of  January,  the  nights  are  so  long,  if  the 
"  Osprey  "  does  not  come  before  then. 

That  is  our  condition,  when  old  Mipples,  bring 
ing  back  the  mail,  brings  a  letter  from  Boston  to 
say  that  the  "Osprey"  has  broken  her  main- 


THEY  SAW  A  GREAT  LIGHT.       35 

shaft,  and  may  not  be  repaired  before  the  15th 
of  January,  —  that  Mr.  Cutts,  will  therefore,  if 
he  needs  oil,  take  an  early  opportunity  to  sup 
ply  himself  from  the  light  at  Squire's,  —  and 
that  an  order  on  the  keeper  at  Squire's  is  en 
closed. 

To  bring  a  cask  of  oil  from  Squire's  is  no  dif 
ficult  task  to  a  Tripp's  Cove  man.  It  would  be  no 
easy  one,  dear  reader,  to  you  and  me.  Squire's 
is  on  the  mainland,  —  our  nearest  neighbor  at 
the  Bell  and  Hammer,  —  it  revolves  once  a  min 
ute,  and  we  watch  it  every  night  in  the  horizon. 
Tom  waited  day  by  day  for  a  fine  day,  —  would 
not  have  gone  for  his  oil  indeed  till  the  New 
Year  came  in,  but  that  Jotham  Fields,  the  other 
assistant,  came  down  with  a  fever  turn  wholly 
beyond  Laura's  management,  and  she  begged 
Tom  to  take  the  first  fine  day  to  carry  him  to  a 
doctor.  To  bring  a  doctor  to  him  was  out  of 
the  question. 

"  And  what  will  you  do?  "  said  Tom. 

"  Do  ?  I  will  wait  till  you  come  home.  Start 
any  fine  day  after  you  have  wound  up  the 
lights  on  the  last  beat,  —  take  poor  Jotham  to 
his  mother's  house,  —  and  if  you  want  you  may 
bring  back  your  oil.  I  shall  get  along  with  the 


36  THEY   SAW  A  GREAT   LIGHT. 

children  very  well,  —  and  I  will  have  your  din 
ner  hot  when  you  come  home." 

Tom  doubted.  But  the  next  day  Jotham  was 
worse.  Mipples  voted  for  carrying  him  ashore, 
and  Laura  had  her  way.  The  easier  did  she  have 
it,  because  the  south  wind  blew  softly,  and  it 
was  clear  to  all  men  that  the  run  could  be  made 
to  Squire's  in  a  short  two  hours.  Tom  finally 
agreed  to  start  early  the  next  morning.  He 
would  not  leave  his  sick  man  at  his  mother's,  but 
at  Squire's,  and  the  people  there  could  put  him 
home.  The  weather  was  perfect,  and  an  hour 
before  daylight  they  were  gone.  They  were  all 
gone,  —  all  three  had  to  go.  Mipples  could  not 
handle  the  boat  alone,  nor  could  Tom  ;  far  less 
could  one  of  them  manage  the  boat,  take  the  oil, 
and  see  to  poor  Jotham  also.  Wise  or  not,  this 
was  the  plan. 

An  hour  before  daylight  they  were  gone. 
Half  an  hour  after  sunrise  they  were  at 
Squire's.  But  the  sun  had  risen  red,  and  had 
plumped  into  a  cloud.  Before  Jotham  was  car 
ried  up  the  cliff  the  wind  was  northwest,  and 
the  air  was  white  with  snow.  You  could  not 
see  the  house  from  the  boat,  nor  the  boat  from 
the  house.  You  could  not  see  the  foremast  of 


THEY   SAW  A  GREAT  LIGHT.  37 

the  boat  from  your  seat  in  the  stern-sheets,  the 
air  was  so  white  with  snow.  They  carried 
Jotham  up.  But  they  told  John  Wilkes,  the 
keeper  at  Squire's,  that  they  would  come  for 
the  oil  another  day.  They  hurried  down  the 
path  to  the  boat  again,  pushed  her  off,  and 
headed  her  to  the  northeast  determined  not  to 
lose  a  moment  in  beating  back  to  the  Bell  and 
Hammer.  Who  would  have  thought  the  wind 
would  haul  back  so  without  a  sign  of  warning  ? 

"  Will  it  hold  up,  Simon  ?  "  said  Tom  to  Mip- 
ples,  wishing  he  might  say  something  encourag 
ing. 

And  all  Simon  Mipples  would  say  was,  - 

''  God  grant  it  may  I  " 


And  Laura  saw  the  sun  rise  red  and  burning. 
And  Laura  went  up  into  the  tower  next  the 
house,  and  put  out  the  light  there.  Then  she 
left  the  children  in  their  cribs,  and  charged  the 
little  boy  not  to  leave  till  she  came  back,  and 
ran  down  to  the  door  to  go  and  put  out  the 
other  light,  —  and  as  she  opened  it  the  blinding 
snow  dashed  in  her  face.  She  had  not  dreamed 
of  snow  before.  But  her  water-proof  was  on, 
she  pulled  on  her  boots,  ran  quickly  along  the 


38  THEY   SAW   A   GREAT   LIGHT. 

path  to  the  other  light,  two  hundred  yards  per 
haps,  climbed  the  stairway  and  extinguished 
that,  and  was  at  home  again  before  the  babies 
missed  her. 

For  an  hour  or  two  Laura  occupied  herself 
with  her  household  cares,  and  pretended  to  her 
self  that  she  thought  this  was  only  a  snow  flurry 
that  would  soon  clear  away.  But  by  the  time 
it  was  ten  o'clock  she  knew  it  was  a  stiff  north 
wester,  and  that  her  husband  and  Mipples  were 
caught  on  shore.  Yes,  and  she  was  caught  with 
her  babies  alone  on  the  island.  Wind  almost 
dead  ahead  to  a  boat  from  Squire's  too,  if  that 
made  any  difference.  That  crossed  Laura's 
mind.  Still  she  would  not  brood.  Nay,  she 
did  not  brood,  which  was  much  better  than  say 
ing  she  would  not  brood.  It  crossed  her  mind 
that  it  was  the  day  before  Christmas,  and  that 
the  girls  at  Tripp's  were  dressing  the  meeting 
house  for  dear  old  Parson  Spaulding.  And  then 
there  crossed  her  mind  the  dear  old  man's  speech 
at  all  weddings,  "  As  you  climb  the  hill  of 
life  together,  my  dear  young  friends,"  and 
poor  Laura,  as  she  kissed  the  baby  once  again, 
had  courage  to  repeat  it  all  aloud  to  her  and  her 
brother,  to  the  infinite  amazement  of  them  both. 
They  opened  their  great  eyes  to  the  widest  as 


THEY  SAW  A  GREAT  LIGHT.       89 

Laura  did  so.  Nay,  Laura  had  the  heart  to  take 
a  hatchet,  and  work  out  to  leeward  of  the  house, 
into  a  little  hollow  behind  the  hill,  and  cut  up 
a  savin  bush  from  the  thicket,  and  bring  that  in, 
and  work  for  an  hour  over  the  leaves  so  as 
to  make  an  evergreen  frame  to  hang  about 
General  Cutts's  picture.  She  did  this  that  Tom 
might  see  she  was  not  frightened  when  he  got 
home. 

When  he  got  home  !  Poor  girl !  at  the  very 
bottom  of  her  heart  was  the  other  and  real  anx 
iety,  —  if  he  got  home.  Laura  knew  Tom,  of 
course,  better  than  he  knew  himself,  and  she 
knew  old  Mipples  too.  So  she  knew,  as  well  as 
she  knew  that  she  was  rubbing  black  lead  on 
the  stove,  while  she  thought  these  things  over,  — 
she  knew  that-  they  would  not  stay  at  Squire's 
two  minutes  after  they  had  landed  Jotham 
Fields.  She  knew  they  would  do  just  what  they 
did,  —  put  to  sea,  though  it  blew  guns,  though 
now  the  surf  was  running  its  worst  on  the  Seal's 
Back.  She  knew,  too,  that  if  they  had  not 
missed  the  island,  they  would  have  been  here, 
at  the  latest,  before  eleven  o'clock.  And  by 
the  time  it  was  one  she  could  no  longer  doubt 
that  they  had  lost  the  island,  and  were  tacking 
about  looking  for  it  in  the  bay,  if,  indeed,  in 


391  THEY  SAW   A   GREAT  LIGHT. 

that  gale  they  dared  to  tack  at  all.  No  !  Laura 
knew  only  too  well,  that  where  they  were  was 
beyond  her  guessiig ;  that  the  good  God  and 
they  two  only  knew. 

"  Come  here,  Tom,  and  let  me  tell  you  a  story  ! 
Once  there  was  a  little  boy,  and  he  had  two 
kittens.  And  he  named  one  kitten  Muff,  and 
he  named  one  kitten  Buff !  "  — 

Whang  ! 

What  was  that  ? 

"  Tom,  darling,  take  care  of  baby ;  do  not  let 
her  get  out  of  the  cradle,  while  mamma  goes  to 
the  door."  Downstairs  to  the  door.  The  gale 
has  doubled  its  rage.  How  ever  did  it  get  in 
behind  the  storm-door  outside  ?  That  "  whang  " 
was  the  blow  with  which  the  door,  wrenched 
off  its  hinges,  was  flung  against  the  side  of 
the  wood-house.  Nothing  can  be  done  but  to 
bolt  the  storm-door  to  the  other  passage,  and 
bolt  the  outer  window  shutters,  and  then  go 
back  to  the  children. 

"  Once  there  was  a  little  boy,  and  he  had  two 
kittens,  and  he  named  one  Minna,  and  oue 
Brenda  "  — 

"  No,  mamma,  no  !  one  Muff,  and  one  "  — 

"  Oh,  yes  I  my  darling !  once  there  was  a  little 
boy,  and  he  had  two  kittens,  and  he  named  one 


THEY   SAW   A   GEE  AT   LIGHT.  392 

Buff,  and  one  Muff.  And  one  day  he  went  to 
walk"  — 

Heavens !  the  lanterns  !  Who  was  to  trim 
the  lamps  ?  Strange  to  say,  because  this  was 
wholly  out  of  her  daily  routine,  the  men  always 
caring  for  it  of  course,  Laura  had  not  once 
thought  of  it  till  now.  And  now  it  was  after 
one  o'clock.  But  now  she  did  think  of  it  with 
a  will.  "  Come,  Tommy,  come  and  help 
mamma."  And  she  bundled  him  up  in  his 
thickest  storm  rig.  "  Come  up  into  the  lan 
tern."  Here  the  boy  had  never  come  before. 
He  was  never  frightened  when  he  was  with  her. 
Else  he  might  well  have  been  frightened.  And 
he  was  amazed  there  in  the  whiteness  ;  drifts  of 
white  snow  on  the  lee-side  and  the  weather-side , 
clouds  of  white  snow  on  the  south-west  sides 
and  north-east  sides ;  snow  ;  snow  everywhere  ; 
nothing  but  whiteness  wherever  he  looked 
round. 

Laura  made  short  shift  of  those  wicks  which 
had  burned  all  through  the  night  before.  But 
she  had  them  ready.  She  wound  up  the  carcels 
for  their  night's  work.  Again  and  again  she 
drew  her  oil  and  filled  up  her  reservoirs.  And 
as  she  did  so,  an  old  text  came  on  her,  and  she 
wondered  whether  Father  Spaulding  knew  how 


393  THEY  SAW  A   GREAT  LIGHT. 

good  a  text  it  would  be  for  Christmas.  And 
the  fancy  touched  her,  poor  child,  and  as  she 
led  little  Tom  down  into  the  nursery  again,  she 
could  not»help  opening  into  the  Bible  Parson 
Spaulding  gave  her  and  reading :  — 

"  '  But  the  wise  took  oil  in  their  vessels  with 
their  lamps.  While  the  bridegroom  tarried, 
they  all  slumbered  and  slept.'  Dear  Tommy, 
dear  Tommy,  my  own  child,  we  will  not  sleep, 
will  we  ?  *  While  the  bridegroom  tarried,'  O 
my  dear  Father  in  Heaven,  let  him  come.  '  And 
at  midnight  there  was  a  cry  made,  Behold,  the 
bridegroom  cometh,  go  ye  out  to  meet  him  ; ' ' 
and  she  devoured  little  Tommy  with  kisses,  and 
cried,  "-We  will  go,  my  darling,  we  will  go,  if  he 
comes  at  the  first  hour,  —  or  the  second,  —  or 
the  third  I  But  now  Tommy  must  come  with 
mamma,  and  make  ready  for  his  coming."  For 
there  were  the  other  lamps  to  trim  in  the  other 
tower,  with  that  heavy  reach  of  snow  between. 
And  she  did  not  dare  leave  the  active  boy  alone 
in  the  house.  Little  Matty  could  be  caged  in 
her  crib,  and,  even  if  she  woke,  she  would  at 
best  only  cry.  But  Tom  was  irrepressible. 

So  they  unbolted  the  lee-door,  and  worked  out 
into  the  snow.  Then  poor  Laura,  with  the 
child,  crept,  round  into  the  storm.  Heavens  I 


THEY    SAW   A   GB.EAT   LIGHT.  39* 

how  it  raged  and  howled !  Where  was  her  poor 
bridegroom  now  ?  She  seized  up  Tom,  and 
turned  her  back  to  the  wind,  and  worked  along, 
side  way,  side  way,  the  only  way  she  could  go, — 
step  by  step,  —  did  it  ever  seem  so  far  before  ? 
Tommy  was  crying.  "  One  minute  more,  dear 
boy.  Tommy  shall  see  the  other  lantern.  And 
Tommy  shall  carry  mamma's  great  scissors  up 
the  stairs.  Don't  cry,  my  darling,  don't  cry." 

Here  is  the  door ; — just  as  she  began  to  won 
der  if  she  were  dreaming  or  crazy.  Not  so  badly 
drifted  in  as  she  feared.  At  least  she  is  under 
cover.  "  Up-a-day,  my  darling,  up-a-day.  One, 
two,  what  a  many  steps  for  Tommy !  That's 
my  brave  boy."  And  they  were  on  the  lantern 
deck  again,  fairly  rocking  in  the  gale,  —  and 
Laura  was  chopping  away  on  her  stiff  wicks, 
and  pumping  up  her  oil  again,  and  filling  the 
receivers,  as  if  she  had  ever  done  it  till  this 
Christmas  before.  And  she  kept  saying  over  to 
herself,  — 

"  Then  those  virgins  arose  and  trimmed  their 
lamps." 

"  And  I  -will  light  them,"  said  she  aloud. 
"  That  will  save  another  walk  at  sundown. 
And  I  know  these  carcels  run  at  least  five 
hours."  So  she  struck  a  match,  and  with  some 


396  THEY   SAW  A  GREAT  LIGHT. 

little  difficulty  coaxed  the  fibres  to  take  fire. 
The  yellow  light  flared  luridly  on  the  white 
snow-flakes,  and  yet  it  dazzled  her  and  Tommy 
as  it  flashed  on  them  from  the  reflectors.  "  Will 
anybody  see  it,  mamma? "  said  the  child.  "  Will 
papa  see  it  ? "  And  just  then  the  witching 
devil  who  manages  the  fibres  of  memory,  drew 
from  the  little  crypt  in  Laura's  brain,  where  they 
had  been  stored  unnoticed  years  upon  years, 
four  lines  of  Leigh  Hunt's,  and  the  child  saw 
that  she  was  Hero  :  — 

"  Then  at  the  flame  a  torch  of  fire  she  lit, 
And,  o'er  her  head  anxiously  holding  it, 
Ascended  to  the  roof,  and,  leaning  there, 
Lifted  its  light  into  the  darksome  air." 

If  only  the  devil  would  have  been  satisfied 
with  this.  But  of  course  she  could  not  remem 
ber  that,  without  remembering  Schiller :  — 

"  In  the  gale  her  torch  is  blasted, 

Beacon  of  the  hoped-for  strand  : 
Horror  broods  above  the  waters, 
Horror  broods  above  the  land." 

And  she  said  aloud  to  the  boy,  "  Our  torch 
shall  not  go  out,  Tommy,  —  come  down,  come 
down,  darling,  with  mamma."  But  all  through 
the  day  horrid  lines  from  the  same  poem  came 
back  to  her.  Why  did  she  ever  learn  it ! 


THEY   SAW   A   GEEAT   LIGHT.  39° 

Why,  but  because  dear  Tom  gave  her  the  book 
himself;  and  this  was  his  own  version,  as  he 
sent  it  to  her  from  the  camp  in  the  valley,  — 

"  Yes,  'tis  he  !  although  he  perished, 
Still  his  sacred  troth  he  cherished." 

"  Why  did  Tom  write  it  for  me  ?  " 

"  And  they  trickle,  lightly  playing 
O'er  a  corpse  upon  the  sand." 

"  What  a  fool  I  am  !  Come,  Tommy.  Come, 
Matty,  my  darling.  Mamma  will  tell  you  a 
story.  Once  there  was  a  little  boy,  and  he 
had  two  kittens.  And  he  named  one  Buff  and 
one  Muff" —  But  this  could  not  last  for  ever. 
Sundown  came.  And  then  Laura  and  Tommy 
climbed  their  own  tower,  —  and  she  lighted  her 
own  lantern,  as  she  called  it.  Sickly  and  sad 
through  the  storm,  she  could  see  the  sister  lan 
tern  burning  bravely.  And  that  was  all  she 
could  see  in  the  sullen  whiteness.  "Now, 
Tommy,  my  darling,  we  will  come  and  have 
some  supper."  "  And  while  the  bridegroom 
tarried,  they  all  slumbered  and  slept."  "  Yes, 
'tis  he ;  although  he  perished,  still  his  sacred 
troth  he  cherished."  "  Come,  Tommy,  —  come 
Tommy,  —  come,  Tommy,  let  me  tell  you  a 
Btory." 

But  the  children  had  their  supper,  —  asking 


397  THEY   SAW  A  GREAT  LIGHT. 

terrible  questions  about  papa,  —  questions  which 
who  should  answer  ?  But  she  could  busy  her 
self  about  giving  them  their  oatmeal,  and 
treating  them  to  ginger-snaps,  because  it  was 
Christmas  Eve.  Nay,  she  kept  her  courage, 
when  Tommy  asked  if  Santa  Glaus  would  come 
in  the  boat  with  papa.  She  fairly  loitered  over 
the  undressing  them.  Little  witches,  how 
pretty  they  were  in  their  flannel  nightgowns ! 
And  Tommy  kissed  her,  and  gave  her  —  ah 
me  I  —  one  more  kiss  for  papa.  And  in  two 
minutes  they  were  asleep.  It  would  have  been 
better  if  they  could  have  kept  awake  one  minute 
longer.  Now  she  was  really  alone.  And  very 
soon  seven  o'clock  has  come.  She  does  not 
dare  leave  the  clock-work  at  the  outer  lantern  a 
minute  longer.  Tom  and  Mipples  wind  the 
works  every  four  hours,  and  now  they  have  run 
five.  One  more  look  at  her  darlings.  Shall 
she  ever  see  them  again  in  this  world  ?  Now 
to  the  duty  next  her  hand  I 

Yes,  the  wind  is  as  fierce  as  ever !  A  point  more 
to  the  north,  Laura  notices.  She  has  no  child 
to  carry  now.  She  tumbles  once  in  the  drift. 
But  Laura  has  rolled  in  snow  before.  The  pile 
at  the  door  is  three  feet  thick.  But  she  works 
down  to  the  latch,  — and  even  her  poor  numb 


THEY   SAW   A  GREAT  LIGHT.  398 

hand  conquers  it,  —  and  it  gives  way.  How 
nice  and  warm  the  tower  is !  and  how  well  the 
lights  burn !  Can  they  be  of  any  use  this  night 
to  anybody?  O  my  God,  grant  that  they  be 
of  use  to  him  ! 

She  has  wound  them  now.  She  has  flound 
ered  into  the  snow  again.  Two  or  three  falls 
on  her  way  home,  —  but  no  danger  that  she 
loses  the  line  of  march.  The  light  above  her 
own  house  is  before  her.  So  she  has  only  to 
aim  at  that.  Home  again !  And  now  to  wait 
for  five  hours,  —  and  then  to  wind  that  light 
again  —  at  midnight ! 

"  And  at  midnight  there  was  a  cry  made  "  — 
"oh  dear! — if  he  would  come,  —  I  would  not 
ask  for  any  cry ! "  — 

And  Laura  got  down  her  choice  inlaid  box, 
that  Jem  brought  her  from  sea,  —  and  which 
held  her  treasures  of  treasures.  And  the  dear 
girl  did  the  best  thing  she  could  have  done. 
She  took  these  treasures  out.  —  You  know  what 
they  were,  do  not  you  ?  They  were  every  letter 
Tom  Cutts  ever  wrote  her  —  from  the  first  boy 
note  in  print,  —  "  Laura,  —  these  hedgehog  quills 
are  for  you.  I  killed  him.  TOM."  And  Laura 
opened  them  all,  —  and  read  them  one  by  one, 


399  THEY   SAW  A   GREAT   LIGHT. 

each  twice,  —  and  put  them  back,  in  their 
order,  without  folding,  into  the  box.  At  ten  she 
stopped,  —  and  worked  her  way  upstairs  into 
her  own  lantern,  —  and  wound  its  works  again. 
She  tried  to  persuade  herself  that  there  was 
less  wind,  —  did  persuade  herself  so.  But  the 
snow  was  as  steady  as  ever.  Down  the  tower- 
stairs  again,  —  and  then  a  few  blessed  minutes 
brooding  over  Matty's  crib,  and  dear  little  Tom 
who  has  kicked  himself  right  athwart  her  own 
bed  where  she  had  laid  him.  Darlings  !  they 
are  so  lovely,  their  father  must  come  home  to 
see  them !  Back  then  to  her  kitchen  fire. 
There  are '  more  of  dear  Tom's  letters  yet. 
How  manly  they  are,  —  and  how  womanly. 
She  will  read  them  all !  —  will  she  ever  dare 
to  read-  them  all  again? 

Yes,  —  she  reads  them  all,  —  each  one  twice 
over,  —  and  his  soldier  diary,  —  which  John 
Wildair  saved  and  sent  home,  and,  as  she  lays  it 
down,  the  clock  strikes  twelve.  Christmas  day 
is  born !  — 

"And  at  midnight  there  was  a  cry  made, 
Behold,  the  bridegroom  cometh."  Laura  fairly 
repeated  this  aloud.  She  knew  that  the  other 
carcel  must  be  wound  again.  She  dressed  her- 
«jelf  for  the  fight  thoroughly.  She  ran  in  and 


THEY   SAW  A  GREAT  LIGHT.  3910 

trusted  herself  to  kiss  the  children.  She  opened 
the  lee-door  again,  and  crept  round  again  into 
the  storm,  — familiar  now  with  such  adventure. 
Did  the  surf  beat  as  fiercely  on  the  rocks? 
Surely  not.  But  then  the  tide  is  now  so  low! 
So  she  came  to  her  other  tower,  crept  up  and 
wound  her  clock-work  up  again,  wiped  off,  or 
tried  to  wipe  off,  what  she  thought  was  mist  gath 
ering  on  the  glasses,  groped  down  the  stairway, 
and  looked  up  on  the  steady  light  above  her  own 
home.  And  the  Christmas  text  came  back  to 
her.  "  The  star  went  before  them,  and  stood 
above  the  place  where  the  young  child  was." 

"A  light 'to  lighten  the.  Gentiles, — and  the 
glory  of  my  people  Israel !  " 

"  By  the  way  of  the  sea," — and  this  Laura 
almost  shouted  aloud,  —  "  Galilee  of  the  Gentiles, 
the  people  who  sat  in  darkness  saw  a  great 
light,  and  to  them  who  sat  in  the  region 
and  shadow  of  death  light  is  sprung  up." 
"Grant  it,  merciful  Father, — grant  it  for 
these  poor  children ! "  And  she  almost  ran 
through  the  heavy  drifts,  till  she  found  the 
shelter  again  of  her  friendly  tower.  Her  dar 
lings  had  not  turned  in  their  bed,  since  she  left 
them  there. 

And  after  this  Laura  was  at  rest.      She  took 


3911  THEY  SAW   A   GKEAT  LIGHT. 

down  her  Bible,  and  read  the  Christmas  chap 
ters.  It  was  as  if  she  had  never  known  before 
what  darkness  was,  —  or  what  the  Light  was, 
when  it  came.  She  took  her  Hymn  Book  and 
read  all  the  Christmas  Hymns.  She  took  her 
Keble,  —  and  read  every  poem  for  Advent  and 
the  hymn  for  Christmas  morning.  She  knew 
this  by  heart  long  ago.  Then  she  took  Bishop 
Ken's  "Christian  Year,"— r which  Tom  had 
given  for  her  last  birthday  present,  —  and  set 
herself  bravely  to  committing  his  "  Christmas 
Day"  to  memory:  — 

"  Celestial  harps,  prepare 

To  sound  your  loftiest  air ; 
You  choral  angels  at  the  throne, 
Your  customary  hymns  postpone ;  " 

and  thus,  dear  girl,  she  kept  herself  from  think 
ing  even  of  the  wretched  Hero  and  Leander 
lines,  till  her  clock  struck  three.  Upstairs  then 
to  her  own  tower,  and  to  look  out  upon  the 
night.  The  sister  flame  was  steady.  The  wind 
was  all  hushed.  But  the  snow  was  as  steady, 
right  and  left,  behind  and  before.  Down  again, 
one  more  look  at  the  darlings,  and  then,  as  she 
walked  up  and  down  her  little  kitchen,  she  re 
peated  the  verses  she  had  learned,  and  then 
sat  down  to  — 


THEY   SAW  A   GREAT   LIGHT.  3912 

"  You  with  your  heavenly  ray 
Gild  the  expanse  this  day  ; 

"  You  with  your  heavenly  ray 
Gild  —  the  expanse  —  this  day  ; 

"  You  —  with  —  your  —  heavenly  —  ray  "  — - 

Dear  Laura,  bless  God,  she  is  asleep.      "  He 
giveth  his  beloved  sleep." 


Her  head  is  thrown  back  on  the  projecting 
wing  of  grandmamma's  tall  easy-chair,  her  arms 
are  resting  relaxed  on  its  comfortable  arms,  her 
lips  just  open  with  a  smile,  as  she  dreams  of 
something  in  the  kingdom  of  God's  heaven, 
when,  as  the  lazy  day  just  begins  to  grow  gray, 
Tom,  white  with  snow  to  his  middle,  holding 
the  boat's  lantern  before  him  as  he  steals  into 
her  kitchen,  crosses  the  room,  and  looks  down 
on  her,  —  what  a  shame  to  wake  her,  —  bends 
down  and  kisses  her  !  " 

Dear  child !  How  she  started,  —  "  At  mid 
night  there  is  a  cry  made,  Behold,  the  bride 
groom  cometh,"  -"Why,  Tom!  Oh!  my 
dearest,  iss  it  you  ?  " 


"  Have  I  been  asleep  on  duty  ?  "     This  was 
her  first  word  when  she  came  fairly  to  herself. 


3913  THEY  SAW   A   GREAT  LIGHT. 

"  Guess  not,"  said  old  Mipples,  "  both  lanterns 
was  burning  when  I  come  in.  'Most  time  to 
put  'em  out,  Major !  '  Keepers  must  be  diligent 
to  save  oil  by  all  reasonable  prevision.' ' 

"Is  the  north  light  burning?"  said  poor 
Laura.  And  she  looked  guiltily  at  her  tell-tale 
clock.  !  j 

"Darling,"  said  Tom,  reverently,  "*if  it  were 
not  burning,  we  should  not  be  here." 

And  Laura  took  her  husband  to  see  the 
babies,  not  willing  to  let  his  hand  leave  hers, 
nor  he,  indeed,  to  let  hers  leave  his.  Old  Mip 
ples  thought  himself  one  too  many,  and  went 
away,  wiping  his  eyes,  to  the  other  light.  "  Time 
to  extinguish  it,"  he  said. 

But  before  Tom  and  Laura  had.  known  he 
was  gone,  say  in  half  an  hour,  that  is,  he  was 
back  again,  hailing  them  from  below. 

"  Major  !  Major  1  Major  !  An  English  steamer 
is  at  anchor  in  the  cove,  and  is  sending  her  boat 
ashore." 

Tom  and  Laura  rushed  to  the  window ;  the 
snow  was  all  over  now,  and  they  could  see  the 
monster  lying  within  half  a  mile.  "  Where 
would  they  be,  Miss  Cutts,  if  somebody  had  not 
wound  up  the  lamps  at  midnight  ?  Guess  they 
said  '  Merry  Christmas  '  when  they  see  'em." 


THEY  SAW  A  GREAT  LIGHT.  3914 

And  Laura  held  her  breath  when  she  thought 
what  might  have  been.  Tom  and  Mipples  ran 
down  to  the  beach  to  hail  them,  and  direct  the 
landing.  Tom  and  Mipples  shook  the  hand  of 
each  man  as  he  came  ashore,  and  then  Laura 
could  see  them  hurrying  to  the  house  together. 
Steps  on  the  landing  ;  steps  on  the  stairway,  — 
the  door  is  open,  and,  —  not  Tom  this  time,  — 
but  her  dear  lost  brother  Jem,  in  the  flesh,  and 
in  a  heavy  pea-coat. 

"  Merry  Christmas  !  Laura !  " 


"Laura,"  said  Jem,  as  they  sat  at  their 
Christmas  dinner,  "  what  do  you  think  I 
thought  of  first,  when  I  heard  the  cable  run 
out  so  like  blazes ;  when  I  rushed  up  and  saw 
your  yellow  lanterns  there  ?  " 

"  How  should  I  know,  Jem  ?  " 

"  '  They  that  dwell  in  the  shadow  of  death, 
upon  them  the  light  hath  shined.' ' 

"  But  I  did  not  think  it  was  you,  Laura." 


CHRISTMAS  WAITS  IN  BOSTON. 


I. 


T  ALWAYS  give  myself  a  Christmas  present. 
And  on  this  particular  year  the  present  was 
a  Carol  party,  —  which  is  about  as  good  fun,  all 
things  consenting  kindly,  as  a  man  can  have. 

Many  things  must  consent,  as  will  appear. 
First  of  all  there  must  be  good  sleighing,  —  and 
second,  a  fine  night  for  Christmas  eve.  Ours 
are  not  the  carollings  of  your  poor  shivering 
little  East  Angles  or  South  Mercians,  where 
they  have  to  plod  round  afoot  in  countries 
where  they  do  not  know  what  a  sleigh-ride  is. 

I  had  asked  Harry  to  have  sixteen  of  the 
best  voices  in  the  chapel  school  to  be  trained 
to  eight  or  ten  good  Carols  rwithoufc-  knowing 
why.  We  did  not  care  to  disappoint  them  if 
a  February  thaw  setting  in  on  the  24th  of 
December  should  break  up  the  spree  before  it 


CHBISTMAS   WAITS   IN   BOSTON.  41 

begaii.  f  Then  I  had  told  Howland  that  he  must 
reserve  for  me  a  span  of  good  horses,  and  a 
sleigh  that  I  could  pack  sixteen  small  children 
into,  tight-stowed.  Howland  is  always  good 
about  such  things,  knew  what  the  sleigh -was 
for,  having  done  the  same  in  other  years,  and 
doubled  the  span  of  horses  of  his  own  accord, 
because  the  children  would  like  it  better,  and 
"  it  would  be  no  difference  to  him."  Sunday 
night  as  the  weather  nymphs  ordered,  the  wind 
hauled  round  to  the  northwest  and  everything 
froze  hard.  ("Monday  night,  things  moderated 
and  the  snow  began  to  fall  steadily,  —  so  stead 
ily; —  and  so  Tuesday  night  the  Metropolitan 
people  gave  up  their  unequal  contest,  all  good 
men  and  angels  rejoicing  at  their  discomfiture, 
and  only  a  few  of  the  people  in  the  very  lowest 
Bolgie,  being  ill-natured  enough  to  grieve.  And 
thus  it  was,  that  by  Thursday  evening  was  one 
hard  compact  roadway  from  Copp's  Hill  to  the 
Bone-burner's  Gehenna,  fit  for  good  men  and 
angels  to  ride  over,  without  jar,  without  noise 
and  without  fatigue  to  horse  or  man.  So  it 
was  that:  when  I  came  down  with  Lycidas  to 
the  chapel  at  seven  o'clock,  I  found  Harry  had 
gathered  there  his  eight  pretty  girls  and  his 


42  CHRISTMAS   WAITS   IN  BOSTON. 

eight  jolly  boys,  and  had  them  practising  for 
the  last  time, 

"  Carol,  carol,  Christians, 
Carol  joyfully ; 
Carol  for  the  coming 
Of  Christ's  nativity." 

I  think  the  children  had  got  inkling  of  what 
was  coming,  or  perhaps  Harry  had  hinted  it  to 
their  mothers.  Certainly  they  were  warmly 
dressed,  and  when,  fifteen  minutes  afterwards, 
Rowland  came  round  himself  with  the  sleigh, 
he  had  put  in  as  many  rugs  and  bear-skins  as 
if  he  thought  the  children  were  to  be  taken  new 
born  from  their  respective  cradles.  Great  was 
the  rejoicing  as  the  bells  of  the  horses  rang 
beneath  the  chapel  windows,  and  Harry  did 
not  get  his  last  da  capo  for  his  last  carol.  Not 
much  matter  indeed,  for  they  were  perfect  enough 
in  it  before  midnight. 

Lycidas  and  I  tumbled  in  on  the  back  seat,  each 
with  a  child  in  his  lap  to  keep  us  warm ;  I  was 
flanked  by  Sam  Perry,  and  he  by  John  Rich,  both 
of  the  mercurial  age,  and  therefore  good  to  do 
errands.  Harry  was  in  front  someAvhere  flanked 
in  likewise,  and  the  twelve  other  children  lay 
in  miscellaneously  between,  like  sardines  when 


CHRISTMAS   WAITS   IN  BOSTON.  43 

you  have  first  opened  the  box.  I  had  invited 
Lycidas,  because,  besides  being  my  best  friend, 
he  is  the  best  fellow  in  the  world,  and  so  de 
serves  the  best  Christmas  eve  can  give  him. 
Under  the  full  moon,  on  the  snow  still  white, 
with  sixteen  children  at  the  happiest,  and  with 
the  blessed  memories  of  the  best  the  world  has 
ever  had,  there  can  be  nothing  better  than  two 
or  three  such  hours. 

*'  First,  driver,  out  on  Commonwealth  Ave 
nue.  That  will  tone  down  the  horses.  Stop 
on  the  left  after  you  have  passed  Fairfield 
Street."  So  we  dashed  up  to  the  front  of 
Haliburton's  palace,  where  he  was  keeping 
his  first  Christmas  tide.  And  the  children, 
whom  Harry  had  hushed  down  for  a  square  or 
two,  broke  forth  with  good  full  voice  under 
his  strong  lead  in 

"  Shepherd  of  tender  sheep," 

singing  with  all  that  unconscious  pathos  with 
which  children  do  sing,  and  starting  the  tears 
in  your  eyes  in  the  midst  of  your  gladness. 
The  instant  the  horses'  bells  stopped,  their 
voices  began.  In  an  instant  more  we  saw 
Haliburton  and  Anna  run  to  the  window  and 


44  CHRISTMAS   WAITS   IN   BOSTON. 

pull  up  the  shades,  and,  in  a  minute  more,  faces 
at  all  the  windows.  And  so  the  children  sung 
through  Clement's  old  hymn.  Little  did  Clem 
ent  think  of  bells  and  snow,  as  he  taught  it  in 
his  Sunday  school  there  in  Alexandria.  But 
perhaps  to-day,  as  they  pin  up  the  laurels  and 
the  palm  in  the  chapel  at  Alexandria,  they  are 
humming  the  words,  not  thinking  of  Clement 
more  than  he  thought  of  us.  As  the  children 
closed  with 

"  Swell  the  triumphant  song 
To  Christ,  our  King," 

Haliburton  came  running  out,  and  begged  me 
to  bring  them  in.  But  I  told  him,  "  No,"  as 
soon  as  I  could  hush  their  shouts  of  "  Merry 
Christmas ;  "  that  we  had  a  long  journey  before 
us,  and  must  not  alight  by  the  way.  And  the 
children  broke  out  with 

"  Hail  to  the  night, 
Hail  to  the  day," 

rather  a  favorite,  —  quicker  and  more  to  the 
childish  taste  perhaps  than  the  other,  —  and 
with  another  "  Merry  Christmas  "  we  were  off 
again. 

Off,  the  length  of  Commonwealth  Avenue,  to 


CHRISTMAS   WAITS   IN   BOSTON.  45 

where  it  crosses  the  Brookline  branch  of  the 
Mill-Dam,  —  dashing  along  with  the  gayest  of 
the  sleighing-parties  as  we  came  back  into  town, 
up  Chestnut  Street,  through  Louisburg  Square, 
—  we  ran  the  sleigh  into  a  bank  on  the  slope  of 
Pinckney  Street  in  front  of  Walter's  house,  — 
and,  before  they  suspected  there  that  any  one 
had  come,  the  children  were  singing 

"  Carol,  carol,  Christians, 
Carol  joyfully." 

Kisses  flung  from  the  window ;  kisses  flung 
back  from  the  street.  "  Merry  Christmas  " 
again  with  a  good-will,  and  then  one  of  the 
girls  began 

"  When  Anna  took  the  baby, 
And  pressed  his  lips  to  hers  "  — 

and  all  of  them  fell  in  so  cheerily.  O  dear  me ! 
it  is  a  scrap  of  old  Ephrem  the  Syrian,  if  they 
did  but  know  it !  And  when,  after  this,  Harry 
would  fain  have  driven  on,  because  two  carols 
at  one  house  was  the  rule,  how  the  little  witches 
begged  that  they  might  sing  just  one  song  more 
there,  because  Mrs.  Alexander  had  been  so  kind  to 
them,  when  she  showed  them  about  the  German 
stitches.  And  then  up  the  hill  and  over  to  the 


46  CHRISTMAS   WAITS   IN  BOSTON. 

North  End,  and  as  far  as  we  could  get  the 
horses  up  into  Moon  Court,  that  they  might 
sing  to  the  Italian  image-man  who  gave  Lucy 
the  boy  and  dog  in  plaster,  when  she  was  sick 
in  the  spring.  For  the  children  had,  you  know, 
the  choice  of  where  they  would  go ;  and  they 
select  their  best  friends,  and  will  be  more  apt 
to  remember  the  Italian  image-man  than  Chry- 
sostom  himself,  though  Chrysostom  should  have 
"  made  a  few  remarks  "  to  them  seventeen  times 
in  the  chapel.  Then  the  Italian  image-man 
heard  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 

"  Now  is  the  time  of  Christmas  come," 

and 

"  Jesus  in  his  babes  abiding." 

And  then  we  came  up  Hanover  Street  and 
stopped  under  Mr.  Gerry's  chapel,  where  they 
were  dressing  the  walls  with  their  evergreens, 
and  gave  them 

"  Hail  to  the  night, 
Hail  to  the  day  "  ; 

and  so  down  State  Street  and  stopped  at  the 
Advertiser  office,  because,  when  the  boys  gave 
their  "  Literary  Entertainment,"  Mr.  Hale  put 
in  their  advertisement  for  nothing,  and  up  in 


CHRISTMAS   WAITS   IN  BOSTON!  47 

the  old  attic  there  the  compositors  were  relieved 
to  hear 

"  Nor  war  nor  battle  sound," 

and 

"  The  waiting  world  was  still." 

Even  the  leading  editor  relaxed  from  his 
gravity,  and  the  "  In  General "  man  from  his 
more  serious  views,  and  the  Daily  the  next 
morning  wished  everybody  a  merry  Christmas 
with  even  more  unction,  and  resolved  that  in 
coming  years  it  would  have  a  supplement,  large 
enough  to  contain  all  the  good  wishes.  So 
away  again  to  the  houses  of  confectioners  who 
had  given  the  children  candy,  —  to  Miss  Si- 
monds's  house,  because  she  had  been  so  good 
to  them  in  school,  —  to  the  palaces  of  million- 
naires  who  had  prayed  for  these  children  with 
tears  if  the  children  only  knew  it,  —  to  Dr. 
Frothingham's  in  Summer  Street,  I  remember, 
where  we  stopped  because  the  Boston  Associa 
tion  of  Ministers  met  there,  —  and  out  on  Dover 
Street  Bridge,  that  the  poor  chair-mender  might 
hear  our  carols  sung  once  more  before  he  heard 
them  better  sung  in  another  world  where  noth 
ing  needs  mending. 


48  CHRISTMAS   WAITS   IN  BOSTON. 

"  King  of  glory,  king  of  peace !  ** 
"Hear  the  song,  and  see  the  Star!" 
"  Welcome  be  thou,  heavenly  King ! " 
"  Was  not  Christ  our  Saviour  ?  " 

and  all  the  others,  rung  out  with  order  or  with 
out  order,  breaking  the  hush  directly  as  the 
horses'  bells  were  stilled,  thrown  into  the  air 
with  all  the  gladness  of  childhood,  selected 
sometimes  as  Harry  happened  to  think  best  for 
the  hearers,  but  more  often  as  the  jubilant  and 
uncontrolled  enthusiasm  of  the  children  bade 
them  break  out  in  the  most  joyous,  least 
studied,  and  purely  lyrical  of  all.  O,  we  went 
to  twenty  places  that  night,  I  suppose  I  "We 
went  to  the  grandest  places  in  Boston,  and  we 
went  to  the  meanest.  Everywhere  they  wished 
us  a  merry  Christmas,  and  we  them.  Every 
where  a  little  crowd  gathered  round  us,  and 
then  we  dashed  away  far  enough  to  gather 
quite  another  crowd  ;  and  then  back,  perhaps, 
not  sorry  to  double  on  our  steps  if  need  were, 
and  leaving  every  crowd  with  a  happy  thought 
of 

'  The  star,  the  manger,  and  the  Child !  " 

At  nine  we  brought  up  at  my  house,  D  Street, 
three  doors  from  the  corner,  and  the  children 


CHRISTMAS   WAITS  IN  BOSTON.  49 

picked  their  very  best  for  Polly  and  my  six 
little  girls  to  hear,  and  then  for  the  first  time 
we  let  them  jump  out  and  run  in.  Polly  had 
some  hot  oysters  for  them,  so  that  the  frolic 
was  crowned  with  a  treat.  There  was  a  Christ 
mas  cake  cut  into  sixteen  pieces,  which  they 
took  home  to  dream  upon ;  and  then  hoods 
and  muffs  on  again,  and  by  ten  o'clock,  or  a 
little  after,  we  had  all  the  girls  and  all  the 
little  ones  at  their  homes.  Four  of  the  big 
boys,  our  two  flankers  and  Harry's  right  and 
left  hand  men,  begged  that  they  might  stay  till 
the  last  moment.  They  could  walk  back  from 
the  stable,  and  "rather walk  than  not,  indeed." 
To  which  we  assented,  having  gained  parental 
permission,  as  we  left  younger  sisters  in  their 
respective  homes. 


II. 


Lycidas  and  I  both  thought,  as  we  went  into 
these  modest  houses,  to  leave  the  children,  to 
say  they  had  been  good  and  to  wish  a  "  Merry 
Christmas  "  ourselves  to  fathers,  mothers,  and 
to  guardian  aunts,  that  the  welcome  of  those 
homes  was  perhaps  the  best  part  of  it  all. 
4 


50  CHRISTMAS   WAITS  IN  BOSTON. 

Here  was  the  great  stout  sailor-boy  whom  we 
had  not  seen  since  he  came  back  from  sea.  He 
was  a  mere  child  when  he  left  our  school  years 
on  years  ago,  for  the  East,  on  board  Perry's 
vessel,  and  had  been  round  the  world.  Here 
was  brave  Mrs.  Masury.  I  had  not  seen  her 
since  her  mother  died.  "  Indeed,  Mr.  Ingliam, 
I  got  so  used  to  watching  then,  that  I  cannot 
sleep  well  yet  o'  nights ;  I  wish  you  knew  some 
poor  creature  that  wanted  me  to-night,  if  it 
were  only  in  memory  of  Bethlehem."  "  You 
take  a  deal  of  trouble  for  the  children,"  said 
Campbell,  as  he  crushed  my  hand  in  his  ;  "but 
you  know  they  love  you,  and  you  know  I  would 
do  as  much  for  you  and  yours,"  —  which  I  knew 
was  true.  "  What  can  I  send  to  your  chil 
dren?"  said  Dalton,  who  was  finishing  sword- 
blades.  (Ill  wind  was  Fort  Sumter,  but  it 
blew  good  to  poor  Dalton,  whom  it  set  up  in 
the  world  with  his  sword-factory.)  "  Here's 
an  old-fashioned  tape-measure  for  the  girl,  and 
a  Sheffield  wimble  'for  the  boy.  What,  there 
is  no  boy  ?  Let  one  of  the  girls  have  it  then ; 
it  will  count  one  more  present  for  her."  And 
so  he  pressed  his  brown-paper  parcel  into  my 
hand  From  every  house,  though  it  were  the 


CHKISTMAS   WAITS   IN   BOSTON.  51 

humblest,  a  word  of  love,  as  sweet,  in  truth,  as 
if  we  could  have  heard  the  voice  of  angels 
singing  in  the  sky. 

I  bade  Harry  good-night;  took  Lycidas  to 
his  lodgings,  and  gave  his  wife  my  Christmas 
wishes  and  good-night ;  and,  coming  down  to 
the  sleigh  again,  gave  way  to  the  feeling  which 
I  think  you  will  all  understand,  that  this  was 
not  the  time  to  stop,  but  just  the  time  to  begin. 
For  the  streets  were  stiller  now,  and  the  moon 
brighter  than  ever,  if  possible,  and  the  blessings 
of  these  simple  people  and  of  the  grand  people, 
and  of  the  very  angels  in  heaven,  who  are  not 
bound  to  the  misery  of  using  words  when  they 
have  anything  worth  saying,  —  all  these  wishes 
and  blessings  were  round  me,  all  the  purity  of 
the  still  winter  night,  and  I  didn't  want  to  lose, 
it  all  by  going  to  bed  to  sleep.  So  I  put  the 
boys  all  together,  where  they  could  chatter, 
took  one  more  brisk  turn  on  the  two  avenues, 
and  then,  passing  through  Charles  Street,  I 
believe  I  was  even  thinking  of  Cambridge,  I 
noticed  the  lights  in  Woodhull's  house,  and, 
seeing  they  were  up,  thought  I  would  make 
Fanny  a  midnight  call.  She  came  to  the  door 
herself.  I  asked  if  she  were  waiting  for  Santa 


52  CHRISTMAS   WAITS   IN   BOSTON. 

Glaus,  but  saw  in  a  moment  that  I  must  not 
joke  with  her.  She  said  she  had  hoped  I  was 
her  husband.  In  a  minute  was  one  of  these 
contrasts  which  make  life,  life.  God  puts  us 
into  the  world  that  we  may  try  them  and  be 
tried  by  them.  Poor  Fanny's  mother  had  been 
blocked  up  on  the  Springfield  train  as  she  was 
coming  on  to  Christmas.  The  old  lady  had 
been  chilled  through,  and  was  here  in  bed  now 
with  pneumonia.  Both  Fanny's  children  had 
been  ailing  when  she  came,  and  this  morning 
the  doctor  had  pronounced  it  scarlet  fever. 
Fanny  had  not  undressed  herself  since  Monday, 
nor  slept,  I  thought,  in  the  same  time.  So 
while  we  had  been  singing  carols  and  wishing 
merry  Christmas,  the  poor  child  had  been  wait 
ing,  and  hoping  that  her  husband  or  Edward, 
both  of  whom  were  on  the  tramp,  would  find 
for  her  and  bring  to  her  the  model  nurse,  who 
had  not  yet  appeared.  But  at  midnight  this 
unknown  sister  had  not  arrived,  nor  had  either 
of  the  men  returned.  When  I  rang,  Fanny  had 
hoped  I  was  one  of  them.  Professional  para 
gons,  dear  reader,  are  shy  of  scarlet  fever.  I 
told  the  poor  child  that  it  was  better  as  it  was. 
I  wrote  a  line  for  Sam  Perry  to  take  to  his 


CHRISTMAS   WAITS  IN  BOSTON.  53 

aunt,  Mrs.  Masury,  in  which  I  simply  said: 
"  Dear  mamma,  I  have  found  the  poor  creature 
who  wants  you  to-night.  Come  back  in  this  car 
riage."  I  bade  him  take  a  hack  at  Barnard's, 
where  they  were  all  up  waiting  for  the  assembly 
to  be  done  at  Papanti's.  I  sent  him  over  to 
Albany  Street ;  and  really  as  I  sat  there  trying 
to  soothe  Fanny,  it  seemed  to  me  less  time  than 
it  has  taken  me  to  dictate  this  little  story  about 
her,  before  Mrs.  Masury  rang  gently,  and  I  left 
them,  having  made  Fanny  promise  that  she 
would  consecrate  the  day,  which  at  that  mo 
ment  was  born,  by  trusting  God,  by  going 
to  bed  and  going  to  sleep,  knowing  that 
her  children  were  in  much  better  hands  than 
hers.  As  I  passed  out  of  the  hall,  the  gas 
light  fell  on  a  print  of  Correggio's  Adoration, 
where  Woodhull  had  himself  written  years 
before, 

"  Ut  appareat  iis  qui  in  tenebris  et  umbra  mortis  positi  sunt." 

"  Darkness  and  the  shadow  of  death  "  indeed, 
and  what  light  like  the  light  and  comfort  such 
a  woman  as  my  Mary  Masury  brings  ! 

And  so,  but  for  one  of  the  accidents,  as  we 
call  them,  I  should  have  dropped  the  boys  at 


54  CHRISTMAS   WAITS   IN   BOSTON. 

the   corner   of  Dover  Street,   and  gone   home 
with  my  Christmas  lesson. 

But  it  happened,  as  we  irreverently  say,  — 
it  happened  as  we  crossed  Park  Square,  so  called 
from  its  being  an  irregular  pentagon  of  which 
one  of  the  sides  has  been  taken  away,  that  I 
recognized  a  tall  man,  plodding  across  in  the 
snow,  head  down,  round-shouldered,  stooping 
forward  in  walking,  with  his  right  shoulder 
higher  than  his  left ;  and  by  these  tokens  I 
knew  Tom  Coram,  prince  among  Boston  princes. 
Not  Thomas  Coram  that  built  the  Foundling 
Hospital,  though  he  was  of  Boston  too ;  but 
he  was  longer  ago.  You  must  look  for  him  in 
Addison's  contribution  to  a  supplement  to  the 
Spectator,  —  the  old  Spectator,  I  mean,  not 
the  Thursday  Spectator,  which  is  more  recent. 
Not  Thomas  Coram,  I  say,  but  Tom  Coram, 
who  would  build  a  hospital  to-morrow,  if  you 
showed  him  the  need,  without  waiting  to  die 
first,  and  always  helps  forward,  as  a  prince 
should,  whatever  is  princely,  be  it  a  statue  at 
home,  a  school  at  Richmond,  a  newspaper  in 
Florida,  a  church  in  Exeter,  a  steam-line  to 
Liverpool,  or  a  widow  who  wants  a  hundred 
dollars.  I  wished  him  a  merry  Christmas,  and 


CHRISTMAS   WAITS   IN   BOSTON.  55 

Mr.  Howland,  by  a  fine  instinct,  drew  up  the 
horses  as  I  spoke.  Coram  shook  hands ;  and, 
as  it  seldom  happens  that  I  have  an  empty 
carriage  while  he  is  on  foot,  I  asked  him  if  I 
might  not  see  him  home.  He  was  glad  to  get 
in.  We  wrapped  him  up  with  spoils  of  the 
bear,  the  fox,  and  the  bison,  turned  the  horses' 
heads  again,  —  five  hours  now  since  they  started 
on  this  entangled  errand  of  theirs,  —  and  gave 
him  his  ride.  "I  was  thinking  of  you  at  the 
moment,"  said  Coram,  —  "  thinking  of  old  col 
lege  times,  of  the  mystery  of  language  as  un 
folded  by  the  Abbd  Faria  to  Edmond  Dantes 
in  the  depths  of  the  Chateau  d'If.  I  was  won 
dering  if  you  could  teach  me  Japanese,  if  I 
asked  you  to  a  Christmas  dinner."  I  laughed. 
Japan  was  really  a  novelty  then,  and  I  asked 
him  since  when  he  had  been  in  correspondence 
with  the  sealed  country.  It  seemed  that  their 
house  at  Shanghae  had  just  'sent  across  there 
their  agents  for  establishing  the  first  house  in 
Edomo,  in  Japan,  under  the  new  treaty.  Every 
thing  looked  promising,  and  the  beginnings  were 
made  for  the  branch  which  has  since  become 
Dot  and  Trevilyan  there.  Of  this  he  had  the 
first  tidings  in  his  letters  by  the  mail  of  that 


56  CHRISTMAS   WAITS   IN  BOSTON. 

afternoon.  John  Coram,  his  brother,  had  written 
to  him,  and  had  said  that  he  enclosed  for  his 
amusement  the  Japanese  bill  of  particulars,  as 
it  had  been  drawn  out,  on  which  they  had 
founded  their  orders  for  the  first  assorted  cargo 
ever  to  be  sent  from  America  to  Edomo.  Bill 
of  particulars  there  was,  stretching  down  the 
long  tissue-paper  in  exquisite  chirography.  But 
by  some  freak  of  the  "  total  depravity  of  things," 
the  translated  order  for  the  assorted  cargo  was 
not  there.  John  Coram,  in  his  care  to  fold  up 
the  Japanese  writing  nicely,  had  left  on  his  own 
desk  at  Shanghae  the  more  intelligible  English. 
"And  so  I  must  wait,"  said  Tom  philosophi 
cally,  "  till  the  next  East  India  mail  for  my 
orders,  certain  that  seven  English  houses  have 
had  less  enthusiastic  and  philological  correspond 
ents  than  my  brother." 

I  said  I  did  not  see  that.  That  I  could  not 
teach  him  to  speak  the  Taghalian  dialects  so 
well,  that  he  could  read  them  with  facility  before 
Saturday.  But  I  could  do  a  good  deal  better. 
Did  he  remember  writing  a  note  to  old  Jack 
Percival  for  me  five  years  ago  ?  No,  he  remem 
bered  no  such  thing;  he  knew  Jack  Percival, 
but  never  wrote  a  note  to  him  in  his  life.  Did 


CHRISTMAS   WAITS   IN  BOSTON.  57 

he  remember  giving  me  fifty  dollars,  because  I 
had  taken  a  delicate  boy,  whom  I  was  going  to 
send  to  sea,  and  I  was  not  quite  satisfied  with 
the  government  outfit  ?  No,  he  did  not  remem 
ber  that,  which  was  not  strange,  for  that  was  a 
thing  he  was  doing  every  day.  "  Well,  I  don't 
care  how  much  you  remember,  but  the  boy 
about  whom  you  wrote  to  Jack  Percival,  for 
whose  mother's  ease  of  mind  you  provided  the 
half-hundred,  is  back  again,  —  strong,  straight, 
and  well  ;  what  is  more  to  the  point,  he  had  the 
whole  charge  of  Perry's  commissariat  on  shore 
at  Yokohama,  was  honorably  discharged 


there,  reads  Japanese  better  than  you  read  Eng 
lish  ;  and  if  it  will  help  you  at  all,  he  shall  be 
here  at  your  house  at  breakfast."  For  as  I 
spoke  we  stopped  at  Coram's  door.  "  Ingham," 
said  Coram,  "  if  you  were  not  a  parson,  I  should 
say  you  were  romancing."  "  My  child,"  said  I, 
"  I  sometimes  write  a  parable  for  the  Atlantic  ; 
but  the  words  of  my  lips  are  verity,  as  all  those 
of  the  Sandemanians.  Go  to  bed  ;  do  not  even 
dream  of  the  Taghalian  dialects  ;  be  sure  thab 
the  Japanese  interpreter  will  breakfast  with 
you,  and  the  next  time  you  are  in  a  scrape  send 
for  the  nearest  minister.  (/George,  tell  your 


58  CHRISTMAS   WAITS  IK  BOSTON. 

brother  Ezra  that  Mr.  Coram  wishes  him  to 
breakfast  here  to-morrow  morning  at  eight 
o'clock;  don't  forget  the  number,  Pemberton 
Square,  you  know."  "  Yes,  sir,"  said  George  ; 
and  Thomas  Coram  laughed,  said  "  Merry 
Christmas,"  and  we  parted. 

It  was  time  we  were  all  in  bed,  especially 
these  boys.  But  glad  enough  am  I  as  I  write 
these  words  that  the  meeting  of  Coram  set  us 
back  that  dropped-stitch  in  our  night's  journey. 
There  was  one  more  delay.  "We  were  sweeping 
by  the  Old  State  House,  the  boys  singing  again, 
"  Carol,  carol,  Christians,"  as  we  dashed  along 
the  still  streets,  when  I  caught  sight  of  Adams 
Todd,  and  he  recognized  me.  He  had  heard  us 
singing  when  we  were  at  the  Advertiser  office. 
Todd  is  an  old  fellow-apprentice  of  mine,  —  and 
he  is  now,  or  rather  was  that  night,  chief  press 
man  in  the  Argus  office.  I  like  the  Argus 
people,  —  it  was  there  that  I  was  South  Amer 
ican  Editor,  now  many  years  ago,  —  and  they 
befriend  me  to  this  hour.  Todd  hailed  me,  and 
once  more  I  stopped.  "  What  sent  you  out 
from  your  warm  steam-boiler  ?  "  "  Steam-boiler, 
indeed,"  said  Todd.  "  Two  rivets  loose,  — 
steam-room  full  of  steam,  —  police  frightened, 


SiAlt  NUHffiAL 

Los  Angeles,  Cal. 

CHRISTMAS   WAITS   IN   BOSTON.  59 

—  neighborhood  in  a  row,  —  and  we  had  to  put 
out  the  fire.  She  would  have  run  a  week  with 
out  hurting  a  fly,  —  only  a  little  puff  in  the 
street  sometimes.  But  there  we  are,  Ingharn. 
"We  shall  lose  the  early  mail  as  it  stands.  Sev 
enty-eight  tokens  to  be  worked  now."  They 
always  talked  largely  of  their  edition  at  the 
Argus.  Saw  it  with  many  eyes,  perhaps ;  but 
this  time,  I  am  sure,  Todd  spoke  true.  I 
caught  his  idea  at  once.  In  younger  and  more 
muscular  times,  Todd  and  I  had  worked  the 
Adams  press  by  that  fly-wheel  for  full  five 
minutes  at  a  time,  as  a  test  of  strength ;  and  in 
my  mind's  eye,  I  saw  that  he  was  printing  Ms 
paper  at  this  moment  with  relays  of  grinding 
stevedores.  He  said  it  was  so.  "  But  think 
of  it  to-night,"  said  he.  "  It  is  Christmas  eve, 
and  not  an  Irishman  to  be  hired,  though  one 
paid  him  ingots.  Not  a  man  can  stand  the 
grind  ten  minutes."  I  knew  that  very  well 
from  old  experience,  and  I  thanked  him  inwardly 
for  not  saying  "  the  demnition  grind,"  with 
Mantilini.  "  We  cannot  run  the  press  half  the 
time,"  said  he ;  "  and  the  men  we  have  are 
giving  out  now.  We  shall  lose  all  our  carrier 
delivery."  "  Todd,"  said  1,  "  is  this  a  night  to 


CO  CHRISTMAS   WAITS   IN   BOSTON. 

be  talking  of  ingots,  or  hiring,  or  losing,  or 
gaining  ?  "When  will  you  learn  that  Love  rules 
the  court,  the  camp,  and  the  Argus  office.  And 
I  wrote  on  the  back  of  a  letter  to  Campbell : 
"  Come  to  the  Argus  office,  No.  2  Dassett's 
Alley,  with  seven  men  not  afraid  to  work "  ; 
and  I  gave  it  to  John  and  Sam,  bade  Howland 
take  the  boys  to  Campbell's  house,  —  walked 
down  with  Todd  to  his  office,  —  challenged  him 
to  take  five  minutes  at  the  wheel,  in  memory 
of  old  times,  —  made  the  tired  relays  laugh  as 
they  saw  us  take  hold  ;  and  then,  —  when  I  had 
cooled  off,  and  put  on  my  Cardigan,  —  met 
Campbell,  with  his  seven  sons  of  Anak,  tum 
bling  down  the  stairs,  wondering  what  round  of 
mercy  the  parson  had  found  for  them  this  time. 
I  started  home,  knowing  I  should  now  have  my 
Argus  with  my  coffee. 

m. 

And  so  I  walked  home.  Better  so,  perhaps, 
after  all,  than  in  the  lively  sleigh,  with  the 
tinkling  bells. 

"  It  was  a  calm  and  silent  night !  — 

Seven  hundred  years  and  fifty-three 
Had  Rome  been  growing  up  to  might, 
And  now  was  queen  of  land  and  sea  1 


CHRISTMAS    WAITS    IN   BOSTON.  61 

No  sound  was  heard  of  clashing  wars,  — 

Peace  brooded  o'er  the  hushed  domain ; 
Apollo,  Pallas,  Jove,  and  Mars 

Held  undisturbed  their  ancient  reign 
In  the  solemn  midnight, 

Centuries  ago ! " 

What  an  eternity  it  seemed  since  I  started 
with  those  children  singing  carols.  Bethlehem, 
Nazareth,  Calvary,  Rome,  Roman  senators, 
Tiberius,  Paul,  Nero,  Clement,  Ephrem,  Am 
brose,  and  all  the  singers,  —  Vincent  de  Paul, 
and  all  the  loving  wonder-workers,  Milton  and 
Herbert  and  all  the  carol- writers,  Luther  and 
Knox  and  all  the  prophets,  —  what  a  world  of 
people  had  been  keeping  Christmas  with  Sam 
Perry  and  Lycidas  and  Harry  and  me ;  and 
here  were  Yokohama  and  the  Japanese,  the 
Daily  Argus  and  its  ten  million  tokens  and 
their  readers,  —  poor  Fanny  Woodhull  and  her 
sick  mother  there,  keeping  Christmas  too  !  For 
a  finite  world,  these  are  a  good  many  "  waits  " 
to  be  singing  in  one  poor  fellow's  ears  on  one 
Christmas  tide. 

"  'Twas  in  the  calm  and  silent  night !  — 

The  senator  of  haughty  Rome, 
Impatient  urged  his  chariot's  flight, 

From  lordly  revel,  rolling  home. 
Triumphal  arches  gleaming  swell 

His  breast,  with  thoughts  of  boundless  sway. 


62  CHRISTMAS   WAITS  IN  BOSTON. 

What  recked  the  Roman  what  befell 
A  paltry  province  far  away, 
In  the  solemn  midnight, 
Centuries  ago ! 

"  Within  that  province  far  away 

Went  plodding  home  a  weary  boor ; 
A  streak  of  light  before  him  lay, 

Fallen  through  a  half-shut  stable  door 
Across  his  path.     He  passed,  —  for  naught 

Told  what  was  going  on  within ; 
How  keen  the  stars,  his  only  thought, 
The  air  how  calm  and  cold  and  thin, 
In  the  solemn  midnight, 

Centuries  ago ! " 

"  Streak  of  light "  —  Is  there  a  light  in 
Lycidas's  room  ?  They  not  in  bed !  That  is 
making  a  night  of  it !  Well,  there  are  few 
hours  of  the  day  or  night  when  I  have  not  been 
in  Lycidas's  room,  so  I  let  myself  in  by  the 
night-key  he  gave  me,  ran  up  the  stairs,  —  it  is 
a  horrid  seven-storied,  first-class  lodging-house. 
For  my  part,  I  had  as  lief  live  in  a  steeple. 
Two  flights  I  ran  up,  two  steps  at  a  time,  —  I 
was  younger  then  than  I  am  now,  —  pushed 
open  the  door  which  was  ajar,  and  saw  such  a 
scene  of  confusion  as  I  never  saw  in  Mary's 
over-nice  parlor  before.  Queer !  I  remember 
the  first  thing  that  I  saw  was  wrong  was  a 
great  ball  of  white  German  worsted  on  the 


CHRISTMAS   WAITS  IN  BOSTON.  63 

floor.  Her  basket  was  upset.  A  great  Christ 
mas-tree  lay  across  the  rug,  quite  too  high  for 
the  room ;  a  large  sharp-pointed  Spanish  clasp- 
knife  was  by  it,  with  which  they  had  been  lop 
ping  it;  there  were  two  immense  baskets  of 
white  papered  presents,  both  upset ;  but  what 
frightened  me  most  was  the  centre- table.  Three 
or  four  handkerchiefs  on  it,  —  towels,  napkins, 
I  know  not  what,  —  all  brown  and  red  and 
almost  black  with  blood !  I  turned,  heart-sick, 
to  look  into  the  bedroom,  —  and  I  really  had  a 
sense  of  relief  when  I  saw  somebody.  Bad 
enough  it  was,  however.  Lycidas,  but  just  now 
so  strong  and  well,  lay  pale  and  exhausted  on 
the  bloody  bed,  with  the  clothing  removed  from 
his  right  thigh  and  leg,  while  over  him  bent 
Mary  and  Morton.  I  learned  afterwards  that 
poor  Lycidas,  while  trimming  the  Christmas- 
tree,  and  talking  merrily  with  Mary  and  Morton, 
—  who,  by  good  luck,  had  brought  round  his 
presents  late,  and  was  staying  to  tie  on  glass 
balls  and  apples,  —  had  given  himself  a  deep 
and  dangerous  wound  with  the  point  of  the 
unlucky  knife,  and  had  lost  a  great  deal  of 
blood  before  the  hemorrhage  could  be  controlled. 
Just  before  I  entered,  the  stick  tourniquet  which 


64  CHRISTMAS   WAITS  IX  BOSTON. 

Morton  had  improvised  had  slipped  in  poor 
Mary's  unpractised  hand,  at  the  moment  he 
was  about  to  secure  the  bleeding  artery,  and 
the  blood  followed  in  such  a  gush  as  compelled 
him  to  give  his  whole  attention  to  stopping  its 
flow.  He  only  knew  my  entrance  by  the  "  Ah, 
Mr.  Ingham,"  of  the  frightened  Irish, girl,  who 
stood  useless  behind  the  head  of  the  bed. 

"  O  Fred,"  said  Morton,  without  looking  up, 
"  I  am  glad  you  are  here." 

"  And  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  Some  whiskey,  —  first  of  all." 

"  There  are  two  bottles,"  said  Mary,  who  was 
holding  the  candle,  —  "  in  the  cupboard  behind 
his  dressing-glass." 

I  took  Bridget  with  me,  struck  a  light  in  the 
dressing-room  (how  she  blundered  about  the 
match),  and  found  the  cupboard  door  locked ! 
Key  doubtless  in  Mary's  pocket,  —  probably  in 
pocket  of  "  another  dress."  I  did  not  ask. 
Took  my  own  bunch,  willed  tremendously  that 
my  account-book  drawer  key  should  govern  the 
lock,  and  it  did.  If  it  had  not,  I  should  have 
put  my  fist  through  the  panels.  Bottle  of 
bedbug  poison  ;  bottle  marked  "  bay  rum "  ; 
another  bottle  with  no  mark ;  two  bottles  of 


CHKISTMAS   WAITS   IN  BOSTON.  65 

Saratoga  water.  "  Set  them  all  on  the  floor, 
Bridget."  A  tall  bottle  of  Cologne.  Bottle 
marked  in  MS.  What  in  the  world  is  it? 
"  Bring  that  candle,  Bridget."  "  Eau  destille'e. 
Marron,  Montreal."  What  in  the  world  did 
Lycidas  bring  distilled  water  from  Montreal  for  ? 
And  then  Morton's  clear  voice  in  the  other 
room,  "  As  quick  as  you  can,  Fred."  "  Yes ! 
in  one  moment.  Put  all  these  on  the  floor, 
Bridget."  Here  they  are  at  last.  "  Bourbon 
whiskey."  "  Corkscrew,  Bridget." 

"  Indade,  sir,  and  where  is  it?"  "Where? 
I  don't  know.  Run  down  as  quick  as  you  can, 
and  bring  it.  His  wife  cannot  leave  him."  So 
Bridget  ran,  and  the  first  I  heard  was  the  rattle 
as  she  pitched  down  the  last  six  stairs  of  the 
first  flight  headlong.  Let  us  hope  she  has  not 
broken  her  leg.  I  meanwhile  am  driving  a 
silver  pronged  fork  into  the  Bourbon  corks,  and 
the  blade  of  my  own  penknife  on  the  other  side. 

"  Now,  Fred,"  from  George  within.  (We  all 
call  Morton  "  George.")  "  Yes,  in  one  moment," 
I  replied.  Penknife  blade  breaks  off,  fork  pulls 
right  out,  two  crumbs  of  cork  come  with  it. 
Will  that  girl  never  come  ? 

I  turned  round ;  I  found  a  goblet  on  the  wash- 
5 


66  CHEISTMAS   WAITS   IN  BOSTON. 

stand;  I  took  Lycidas's  heavy  clothes-brush, 
and  knocked  off  the  neck  of  the  bottle.  Did 
you  ever  do  it,  reader,  with  one  of  those  pressed 
glass  bottles  they  make  now  ?  It  smashed  like 
a  Prince  Rupert's  drop  in  my  hand,  crumbled 
into  seventy  pieces,  —  a  nasty  smell  of  whiskey 
on  the  floor,  —  and  I,  holding  just  the  hard 
bottom  of  the  thing  with  two  large  spikes  run 
ning  worthless  up  into  the  air.  But  I  seized 
the  goblet,  poured  into  it  what  was  left  in  the 
bottom,  and  carried  it  in  to  Morton  as  quietly 
as  I  could.  He  bade  me  give  Lycidas  as  much 
as  he  could  swallow ;  then  showed  me  how  to 
substitute  my  thumb  for  his,  and  compress  the 
great  artery.  When  he  was  satisfied  that  he 
could  trust  me,  he  began  his  work  again, 
silently ;  just  speaking  what  must  be  said  to 
that  brave  Mary,  who  seemed  to  have  three 
hands  because  he  needed  them.  When  all  was 
secure,  he  glanced  at  the  ghastly  white  face, 
with  beads  of  perspiration  on  the  forehead  and 
upper  lip,  laid  his  finger  on  the  pulse,  and  said  : 
"  We  will  have  a  little  more  whiskey.  No, 
Mary,  you  are  overdone  already ;  let  Fred  bring 
it."  The  truth  was  that  poor  Mary  was  almost 
as  white  as  Lycidas.  She  would  not  faint,  — 


CHRISTMAS   WAITS   IN  BOSTON".  67 

that  was  the  only  reason  she  did  not,  —  and  at 
the  moment  I  wondered  that  she  did  not  fall. 
I  believe  George  and  I  were  both  expecting  it, 
now  the  excitement  was  over.  He  called  her 
Mary,  and  me  Fred,  because  we  were  all  together 
every  day  of  our  lives.  Bridget,  you  see,  was 
still  nowhere. 

So  I  retired  for  my  whiskey  again,  —  to  attack 
that  other  bottle.  George  whispered  quickly  as 
I  went,  "Bring  enough, — bring  the  bottle." 
Did  he  want  the  bottle  corked?  Would  that 
Kelt  ever  come  up  stairs?  I  passed  the  bell- 
rope  as  I  went  into  the  dressing-room,  and  rang 
as  hard  as  I  could  ring.  I  took  the  other  bottle, 
and  bit  steadily  with  my  teeth  at  the  cork,  only, 
of  course,  to  wrench  the  end  of  it  off.  George 
called  me,  and  I  stepped  back.  "  No,"  said  he, 
"  bring  your  whiskey." 

Mary  had  just  rolled  gently  back  on  the  floor. 
I  went  again  in  despair.  But  I  heard  Bridget's 
step  this  time.  First  flight,  first  passage ; 
second  flight,  second  passage.  She  ran  in  in 
triumph  at  length,  with  a  screw-driver! 

"No!"  I  whispered,  —  "no.  The  crooked 
thing  you  draw  corks  with,"  and  I  showed  her 
the  bottle  again.  "  Find  one  somewhere  and 


68  CHRISTMAS   WAITS   IN  BOSTON. 

don't  come  back  without  it."  So  she  vanished 
for  the  second  time. 

"  Frederic !  "  said  Morton.  I  think  he  never 
called  me  so  before.  Should  I  risk  the  clothes- 
brush  again  ?  I  opened  Lycidas's  own  drawers, 
— papers,  boxes,  everything  in  order,  —  not  a 
sign  of  a  tool. 

"  Frederic ! "  "  Yes,"  I  said.  But  why  did 
I  say  "  Yes  "  ?  "  Father  of  Mercy,  tell  me  what 
to  do." 

And  my  mazed  eyes,  dim  with  tears,  —  did 
you  ever  shed  tears  from  excitement? — fell  on 
an  old  razor-strop  of  those  days  of  shaving, 
made  by  C.  WHITTAKER,  SHEFFIELD.  The 
"  Sheffield  "  stood  in  black  letters  out  from  the 
rest  like  a  vision.  They  make  corkscrews  in 
Sheffield  too.  If  this  Whittaker  had  only  made  a 
corkscrew !  And  what  is  a  "  Sheffield  wimble  "? 

Hand  in  my  pocket, — •  brown  paper  parcel. 

"  Where  are  you,  Frederic  ?  "  "  Yes,"  said  I, 
for  the  last  time.  Twine  off!  brown  paper  off. 
And  I  learned  that  the  "  Sheffield  wimble  "  was 
one  of  those  things  whose  name  you  never  heard 
before,  which  people  sell  you  in  Thames  Tunnel, 
where  a  hoof-cleaner,  a  gimlet,  a  screw-driver, 
and  a  corkscrew  fold  into  one  handle. 


CHRISTMAS   WAITS  IN  BOSTON.  69 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  again.  "  Pop,"  said  the  cork. 
"  Bubble,  bubble,  bubble,"  said  the  whiskey. 
Bottle  in  one  hand,  full  tumbler  in  the  other,  I 
walked  in.  George  poured  half  a  tumblerful 
down  Lycidas's  throat  that  time.  Nor  do  I  dare 
say  how  much  he  poured  down  afterwards.  I 
found  that  there  was  need  of  it,  from  what  he 
said  of  the  pulse,  when  it  was  all  over.  I  guess 
Mary  had  some,  too. 

This  was  the  turning-point.  He  was  exceed 
ingly  weak,  and  we  sat  by  him  in  turn  through 
the  night,  giving,  at  short  intervals,  stimulants 
and  such  food  as  he  could  swallow  easily ;  for  I 
remember  Morton  was  very  particular  not  to 
raise  his  head  more  than  we  could  help.  But 
there  was  no  real  danger  after  this. 

As  we  turned  away  from  the  house  on 
Christmas  morning,  —  I  to  preach  and  he  to 
visit  his  patients,  —  he  said  to  me,  "  Did  you 
make  that  whiskey  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  but  poor  Dod  Dalton  had  to 
furnish  the  corkscrew." 

And  I  went  down  to  the  chapel  to  preach. 
The  sermon  had  been  lying  ready  at  home  on 
my  desk,  —  and  Polly  had  brought  it  round  to 
me,  —  for  there  had  been  no  time  for  me  to  go 


70  CHRIST&AS   WAITS   IN  BOSTON. 

from  Lycidas's  home  to  D  Street  and  to  return. 
There  was  the  text,  all  as  it  was  the  day 
before :  — 

"  They  helped  every  one  his  neighbor,  and  every  one  said 
to  his  brother,  Be  of  good  courage.  So  the  carpenter  encour 
aged  the  goldsmith,  and  he  that  smootheth  with  the  hammer 
him  that  smote  the  anvil." 

And  there  were  the  pat  illustrations,  as  I  had 
finished  them  yesterday ;  of  the  comfort  Mary 
Magdalen  gave  Joanna,  the  court  lady ;  and  the 
comfort  the  court  lady  gave  Mary  Magdalen, 
after  the  mediator  of  a  new  covenant  had  medi 
ated  between  them ;  how  Simon  the  Cyrenian, 
and  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  and  the  beggar  Bar- 
timeus  comforted  each  other,  gave  each  other 
strength,  common  force,  cam-fort,  when  the  One 
Life  flowed  in  all  their  veins ;  how  on  board  the 
ship  the  Tent-Maker  proved  to  be  Captain,  and 
the  Centurion  learned  his  duty  from  his  Prisoner, 
and  how  they  "  All  came  safe  to  shore,"  because 
the  New  Life  was  there.  But  as  I  preached,  I 
caught  Frye's  eye.  Frye  is  always  critical ; 
and  I  said  to  myself,  "  Frye  would  not  take  his 
illustrations  from  eighteen  hundred  years  ago." 
And  I  saw  dear  old  Dod  Dalton  trying  to  keep 
awake,  and  Campbell  hard  asleep  after  trying, 


CHRISTMAS   WAITS  IN  BOSTON.  71 

and  Jane  Masury  looking  round  to  see  if  her 
mother  did  not  come  in;  and  Ezra  Sheppard, 
looking,  not  so  much  at  me,  as  at  the  window 
beside  me,  as  if  his  thoughts  were  the  other 
side  of  the  world.  And  I  said  to  them  all,  "  O, 
if  I  could  tell  you,  my  friends,  what'  every 
twelve  hours  of  my  life  tells  me,  —  of  the  way  in 
which  woman  helps  woman,  and  man  helps  man, 
when  only  the  ice  is  broken,  —  how  we  are  all 
rich  so  soon  as  we  find  out  that  we  are  all 
brothers,  and  how  we  are  all  in  want,  unless  we 
can  call  at  any  moment  for  a  brother's  hand,  — 
then  I  could  make  you  understand  something, 
in  the  lives  you  lead  every  day,  of  what  the  New 
Covenant,  the  New  Commonwealth,  the  New 
Kingdom  is  to  be." 

But  I  did  not  dare  tell  Dod  Dalton  what 
Campbell  had  been  doing  for  Todd,  nor  did 
I  dare  tell  Campbell  by  what  unconscious  arts 
old  Dod  had  been  helping  Lycidas.  Perhaps 
the  sermon  would  have  been  better  had  I 
done  so. 

But,  when  we  had  our  tree  in  the  evening  at 
home,  I  did  tell  all  this  story  to  Polly  and  the 
bairns,  and  I  gave  Alice  her  measuring-tape,  — 
precious  with  a  spot  of  Lycidas's  blood,  —  and 


72  CHRISTMAS   WAITS   IN   BOSTON. 

Bertha  her  Sheffield  wimble.  "  Papa,"  said 
old  Clara,  who  is  the  next  child,  "  all  the  peo 
ple  gave  presents,  did  not  they,  as  they  did  in 
the  picture  in  your  study?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  though  they  did  not  all 
know' they  were  giving  them." 

"  Why  do  they  not  give  such  presents  every 
day  ?  "  said  Clara. 

"  O  child,"  I  said,  "  it  is  only  for  thirty-six 
hours  of  the  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days, 
that  all  people  remember  that  they  are  all 
brothers  and  sisters,  and  those  are  the  hours 
that  we  call,  therefore,  Christmas  eve  and 
Christmas  day." 

"  And  when  they  always  remember  it,"  said 
Bertha,  "  it  will  be  Christmas  all  the  time ! 
What  fun  I 

"  What  fun,  to  be  sure ;  but,  Clara,  what  is 
in  the  picture  ?  " 

"  Why,  an  old  woman  has  brought  eggs  to 
the  baby  in  the  manger,  and  an  old  man  has 
brought  a  sheep.  I  suppose  they  all  brought 
what  they  had." 

"  I  suppose  those  who  came  from  Sharon 
brought  roses,"  said  Bertha.  And  Alice,  who 
is  eleven,  and  goes  to  the  Lincoln  School,  and 


CHRISTMAS   WAITS   IN   BOSTON.  73 

therefore  knows  every  thing,  said,  — "  Yes, 
and  the  Damascus  people  brought  Damascus 
wimbles." 

"  This  is  certain,"  said  Polly,  "  that  nobody 
tried  to  give  a  straw,  but  the  straw,  if  he  really 
gave  it,  carried  a  blessing." 


ALICE'S   CHRISTMAS-TREE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  LICE  MACNEIL  had  made  the  plan  of 
this  Christmas-tree,  all  by  herself  and 
for  herself.  She  had  a  due  estimate  of  those 
manufactured  trees  which  hard- worked  "  Sab 
bath  Schools  "  get  up  for  rewards  of  merit  for 
the  children  who  have  been  regular,  and  at  the 
last  moment  have  saved  attendance-tickets 
enough.  Nor  did  Alice  MacNeil  sit  in  judg 
ment  on  these.  She  had  a  due  estimate  of 
them.  But  for  her  Christmas-tree  she  had  two 
plans  not  included  in  those  more  meritorious 
buddings  and  bourgeonings  of  the  winter. 
First,  she  meant  to  get  it  up  without  any  help 
from  anybody.  And,  secondly,  she  meant  that 
the  boys  and  girls  who  had  anything  from  it 
should  be  regular  laners  and  by-way  farers,  — 
they  were  to  have  no  tickets  of  respectability, 


ALICE'S   CHRISTMAS-TREE.  75 

—  they  were  not  in  any  way  to  buy  their  way 
ir. ;  but,  for  this  once,  thos.e  were  to  come  in  to 
a  Christmas-tree  who  happened  to  be  ragged 
and  in  the  streets  when  the  Christmas-tree  was 
ready. 

So  Alice  asked  Mr.  Williams,  the  minister, 
if  she  could  have  one  of  the  rooms  in  the  vestry 
when  Christmas  eve  came  ;  and  he,  good  saint, 
was  only  too  glad  to  let  her.  He  offered,  gently, 
his  assistance  in  sifting  out  the  dirty  boys  and 
girls,  intimating  to  Alice  that  there  was  dirt 
and  dirt ;  and  that,  even  in  those  lowest  depths 
which  she  was  plunging  into,  there  were  yet 
lower  deeps  which  she  might  find  it  wise  to 
shun.  But  here  Alice  told  him  frankly  that  she 
would  rather  try  her  experiment  fairly  through. 
Perhaps  she  was  wrong,  but  she  would  like 
to  see  that  she  was  wrong  in  her  own  way. 
Any  way,  on  Christmas  eve,  she  wanted  no  dis 
tinctions. 

That  part  of  her  plan  went  bravely  forward. 

Her  main  difficulty  came  on  the  other  side,  — 
that  she  had  too  many  to  help  her.  She  was 
not  able  to  carry  out  the  first  part  of  her  plan, 
and  make  or  buy  all  her  presents  herself.  For 
everybody  was  pleased  with  this  notion  of  a 


76  ALICE'S  CHRISTMAS-TREE. 

truly  catholic  or  universal  tree  ;  and  everybody 
wanted  to  help.  Well,  if  anybody  would  send 
her  a  box  of  dominos,  or  a  jack-knife,  or  an 
open-eye-shut-eye  doll,  who  was  Alice  to  say  it 
should  not  go  on  the  tree  ?  and  when  Mrs.  Hes- 
perides  sent  round  a  box  of  Fayal  oranges,  who 
was  Alice  to  say  that  the  children  should  not 
have  oranges  ?  And  when  Mr.  Gorham  Parsons 
sent  in  well-nigh  a  barrel  full  of  Hubbardston 
None-such  apples,  who  was  Alice  to  say  they 
should  not  have  apples  ?  So  the  tree  grew  and 
grew,  and  bore  more  and  more  fruit,  till  it  was 
clear  that  there  would  be  more  than  eighty  reli 
able  presents  on  it,  besides  apples  and  oranges, 
almonds  and  raisins  galore. 

Now  you  see  this  was  a  very  great  enlarge 
ment  of  Alice's  plan ;  and  it  brought  her  to  grief, 
as  you  shall  see.  She  had  proposed  a  cosey  little 
tree  for  fifteen  or  twenty  children.  Well,  if 
she  had  held  to  that,  she  would  have  had  no 
more  than  she  and  Lillie,  and  Mr.  Williams,  and 
Mr.  Gilmore,  and  John  Flagg,  and  I,  could  have 
managed  easily,  particularly  if  mamma  was  there 
too.  There  would  have  been  room  enough  in 
the  chapel  parlor ;  and  it  would  have  been,  as  I 
believe,  just  the  pretty  and  cheerful  Christmas 


ALICE'S   CHRISTMAS-TREE.  77 

jollity  that  Alice  meant  it  should  be.  But  when 
it  came  to.  eighty  presents,  and  a  company  of 
eighty  of  the  unwashed  and  unticketed,  it  became 
quite  a  different  thing. 

For  now  Alice  began  to  fear  that  there 
would  not  be  children  enough  in  the  highways 
and  by-ways.  So  she  started  herself,  as  even 
ing  drew  on,  with  George,  the  old  faithful  black 
major-domo,  and  she  walked  through  the  worst 
streets  she  knew  anything  of,  of  all  those  near 
the  chapel ;  and,  whenever  she  saw  a  brat  par 
ticularly  dirty,  or  a  group  of  brats  particularly 
forlorn,  she  sailed  up  gallantly,  and,  though  she 
was  frightened  to  death,  she  invited  them  to  the 
tree.  She  gave  little  admittance  cards,  that 
said,  "  7  o'clock,  Christmas  Eve,  507  Living 
stone  Avenue,"  for  fear  the  children  would  not 
remember.  And  she  told  Mr.  Flagg  that  he 
and  Mr.  Gilmore  might  take  some  cards  and 
walk  out  toward  Williamsburg,  and  do  the  same 
thing,  only  they  were  to  be  sure  that  they  asked 
the  dirtiest  and  most  forlorn  children  they  saw. 
There  was  a  friendly  policeman  with  whom 
Alice  had  been  brought  into  communication  by 
the  boys  in  her  father's  office,  and  he  also  was 
permitted  to  give  notice  of  the  tree.  But  he 


78  ALICE'S  CHRISTMAS-TREE. 

was  also  to  be  at  the  street  door,  armed  with 
the  strong  arm  of  "  The  People  of  New  York," 
and  when  the  full  quota  of  eighty  had  been 
admitted  he  was  to  admit  no  more. 

Ah  me !  My  poor  Alice  issued  her  cards  only 
too  freely.  Better  indeed,  it  seemed,  had  she 
held  to  her  original  plan ;  at  least  she  thought 
so,  and  thinks  so  to  this  day.  But  I  am  not 
so  certain.  A  hard  time  she  had  of  it,  however. 
Quarter  of  seven  found  the  little  Arabs  in 
crowds  around  the  door,  with  hundreds  of  others 
who  thought  they  also  were  to  find  out  what  a 
"free  lunch"  was.  The  faithful  officer  Purdy 
was  in  attendance  also ;  he  passed  in  all  who 
had  the  cards ;  he  sent  away  legions,  let  me 
say,  who  had  reason  to  dread  him ;  but  still 
there  assembled  a  larger  and  larger  throng  about 
the  door.  Alice  and  Lillie,  and  the  young  gen 
tlemen,  and  Mrs.  MacNeil,  were  all  at  work  up 
stairs,  and  the  tree  was  a  perfect  beauty  at  last. 
They  lighted  up,  and  nothing  could  have  been 
more  lovely. 

"  Let  them  in ! "  said  John  Flagg  rushing  to 
the  door,  where  expectant  knocks  had  been 
heard  already.  "  Let  them  in,  —  the  smallest 
girls  first  1 " 


ALICE'S   CHRISTMAS-TREE.  79 

"  Smallest  girls,"  indeed !  The  door  swung 
open,  and  a  tide  of  boy  and  girl,  girl  and  boy, 
boy  big  to  hobble-de-hoy-dom,  and  girl  big  to 
young-woman-dom,  came  surging  in,  wildly 
screaming,  scolding,  pushing,  and  pulling. 
Omitting  the  profanity,  these  are  the  .Christmas 
carols  that  fell  on  Alice's  ear. 

"  Out  o'  that  I  "  "  Take  that,  then !  "  "  Who 
are  you  ?  "  "  Hold  your  jaw  !  "  Can't  you  behave 
decent  ?  "  "  You  lie  !  "  "  Get  out  of  my  light !  " 
"  Oh,  dear !  you  killed  me  !  "  "  Who  's  killed  ?  " 
"  Golly !  see  there  !  "  "I  say,  ma'am,  give  me 
that  pair  of  skates  !  "  "  Shut  up  —  "  and  so  on, 
the  howls  being  more  and  more  impertinent,  as 
the  shepherds  who  had  come  to  adore  became 
more  and  more  used  to  the  position  they  were  in. 

Young  Gilmore,  who  was  willing  to  oblige 
Alice,  but  was  not  going  to  stand  any  nonsense, 
and  would  have  willingly  knocked  the  heads 
together  of  any  five  couples  of  this  rebel  rout, 
mounted  on  a  corner  of  the  railing,  which,  by 
Mr.  Williams' s  prescience  had  been  built  around 
the  tree,  and  addressed  the  riotous  assembly. 

They  stopped  to  hear  him,  supposing  he  was 
to  deliver  the  gifts,  to  which  they  had  been 
Bummoned. 


80  ALICE'S   CHRISTMAS-TREE. 

He  told  them  pretty  roundly  that  if  they  did 
not  keep  the  peace,  and  stop  crowding  and  yell 
ing,  they  should  all  be  turned  out  of  doors ; 
that  they  were  to  pass  the  little  girls  and  boys 
forward  first,  and  that  nobody  would  have  any 
thing  to  eat  till  this  was  done. 

Some  approach  to  obedience  followed.  A 
few  little  waifs  were  found,  who  in  decency 
could  be  called  little  girls  and  boys.  But,  alas  ! 
as  she  looked  down  from  her  chair,  Alice  felt  as 
if  most  of  her  guests  looked  like  shameless, 
hulking  big  boys  and  big  girls,  only  too  well 
fitted  to  grapple  with  the  world,  and  only  too 
eager  to  accept  its  gifts  without  grappling.  She 
and  Lillie  tried  to  forget  this.  They  kissed  a 
few  little  girls,  and  saw  the  faintest  gleam  of 
pleasure  on  one  or  two  little  faces.  But  there, 
also,  the  pleasure  was  almost  extinct,  in  fear  of 
the  big  boys  and  big  girls  howling  around. 

So  the  howling  began  again,  as  the  distribu 
tion  went  forward.  "  Give  me  that  jack-knife !  " 
"  I  say,  Mister,  I  'm  as  big  as  he  is,"  "  He  had 
one  before  and  hid  it,"  "  Be  down,  Tom  Mulli 
gan, —  get  off  that  fence  or  I  '11  hide  you,"  ".I 
don't  want  the  book,  give  me  them  skates," 
"  You  sha'n't  have  the  skates,  I  '11  have  'em 


ALICE  S   CHRISTMAS-TREE.  81 

myself  — "  and  so  on.  John  Flagg  finally 
knocked  down  Tom  Mulligan,  who  had  squeezed 
round  behind  the  tree,  in  an  effort  to  steal  some 
thing,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  sending  him 
bellowing  from  the  room,  with  his  face  covered 
with  blood  from  his  nose.  Gilmore,  meanwhile, 
was  rapidly  distributing  an  orange  and  an  apple 
to  each,  which,  while  the  oranges  were  sucked, 
gave  a  moment's  quiet.  Alice  and  the  ladies, 
badly  frightened,  were  stripping  the  tree  as  fast 
as  they  could,  and  at  last  announced  that  it  was 
all  clear,  with  almost  as  eager  joy  as  half  an 
hour  before  they  had  announced  that  it  was  all 
full.  "  There  's  a  candy  horn  on  top,  give  me 
that."  "Give  me  that  little  apple."  "Give 
me  the  old  sheep."  "  Hoo !  hurrah,  for  the  old 
sheep !  "  This  of  a  little  lamb  which  had  been 
placed  as  an  appropriate  ornament  in  front. 
Then  began  a  howl  about  oranges.  "  I  want 
another  orange."  "Bill's  got  some,  and  I've 
got  none."  "  I  say,  Mister,  give  me  an 
orange." 

To  which  Mister  replied,  by  opening  the  win 
dow,  and  speaking  into  the  street,  —  "I  say, 
Purdy,  call  four  officers  and  come  up  and  clear 
this  room." 

6 


82  ALICE'S  CHRISTMAS-TREE. 

The  room  did  not  wait  for  the  officers :  it 
cleared  itself  very  soon  on  this  order,  and  was 
left  a  scene  of  wreck  and  dirt.  Orange-peel 
trampled  down  on  the  floor ;  cake  thrown  down 
and  mashed  to  mud,  intermixed  with  that  which 
had  come  in  on  boots,  and  the  water  which  had 
been,  slobbered  over  from  hasty  mugs ;  the 
sugar  plums  which  had  fallen  in  scrambles,  and 
little  sprays  of  green  too,  trodden  into  the  mass, 
—  all  made  an  aspect  of  filth  like  a  market  side 
walk.  And  poor  Alice  was  half  crying  and  half 
laughing ;  poor  Lillie  was  wholly  crying.  Gil- 
more  and  Flagg  were  explaining  to  each  other 
how  gladly  they  would  have  thrashed  the  whole 
set. 

The  thought  uppermost  in  Alice's  mind  was 
that  she  had  been  a  clear,  out  and  out  fool! 
And  that,  probably,  is  the  impression  of  the 
greater  part  of  the  readers  of  her  story,  —  or 
would  have  been  the  impression  of  any  one  who 
only  had  her  point  of  view. 


ALICE'S   CHEISTMAS-TE.EE.  83 


CHAPTER  II. 

PERHAPS  the  reader  is  willing  to  take  anoth."* 
point  of  view. 

A*  the  group  stood  there,  talking  over  the 
riot  as  Mrs.  MacNeil  called  it,  —  as  John  Flagg 
tried  to  make  Alice  laugh  by  bringing  her  a 
half-piece  of  frosted  pound-cake,  and  proving 
to  her  that  it  had  not  been  on  the  floor,  —  as 
she  said,  her  eyes  streaming  with  tears,  "  I  tell 
you,  John !  I  am  a  fool,  and  I  know  I  am,  and 
nobody  but  a  fool  would  have  started  such  a 
row,"  —  as  all  this  happened,  Patrick  Crehore 
came  back  for  his  little  sister's  orange  which  he 
had  wrapped  in  her  handkerchief  and  left  on 
one  of  the  book-racks  in  the  room.  Patrick 
was  alone  now,  and  was  therefore  sheepish 
enough,  and  got  himself  and  his  orange  out  of 
the  room  as  soon  as  he  well  could.  But  he  was 
sharp  enough  to  note  the  whole  position,  and 
keen  enough  to  catch  Alice's  words  as  she  spoke 
to  Mr.  Flagg.  Indeed,  the  general  look  of  dis 
appointment  and  chagrin  in  the  room,  and  the 
contrast  between  this  filthy  ruin  and  the  pretty 
elegance  of  half  an  hour  ago,  were  distinct 


84  ALICE'S  CHRISTMAS-TREE. 

enough  to  be  observed  by  a  much  more  stupid 
boy  than  Patrick  Crehore.  He  went  down 
stairs  and  found  Bridget  waiting,  and  walked 
home  with  the  little  toddler,  meditating  rather 
more  than  was  his  wont  on  Alice's  phrase,  "  I 
tell  you,  I  am  a  fool."  Meditating  on  it,  he 
haled  Bridget  up  five  flights  of  stairs  and  broke 
in  on  the  little  room  where  a  table  spread  with 
a  plentiful  supply  of  tea,  baker's  bread,  butter, 
cheese,  and  cabbage,  waited  their  return.  Jerry 
Crehore,  his  father,  sat  smoking,  and  his  mother 
was  tidying  up  the  room. 

"  And  had  ye  a  good  time,  me  darling  ?  And 
ye  've  brought  home  your  orange,  and  a  doll 
too,  and  mittens  too.  And  what  did  you  have, 
Pat?" 

So  Pat  explained,  almost  sulkily,  that  he  had 
a  checker-board,  and  a  set  of  checker-men, 
which  he  produced ;  but  he  put  them  by  as  if 
he  hated  the  sight  of  them,  and  for  a  minute 
dropped  the  subject,  while  he  helped  little 
Biddy  to  cabbage.  He  ate  something  himself, 
drank  some  tea,  and  then  delivered  his  rage 
with  much  unction,  a  little  profanity,  great 
incoherency,  —  but  to  his  own  relief. 

"  It 's  a  mean  thing  it  is,  all  of  it,"  said  he. 


ALICE'S   CHRISTMAS-TEEE.  85 

"  I  '11  be  hanged  but  it  is !  I  dunno  who  the 
lady  is ;  but  we  've  made  her  cry  bad,  I  know 
that ;  and  the  boys  acted  like  Nick.  They  knew 
that  as  well  as  I  do.  The  man  there  had  to 
knock  one  of  the  fellows  down,  bedad,  and 
served  him  right,  too.  I  say,  the  fellows  fought, 
and  hollared,  and  stole,  and  sure  ye  'd  thought 
ye  was  driving  pigs  down  the  Eighth  Avenue, 
and  I  was  as  bad  as  the  worst  of  'em.  That 's 
what  the  boys  did  when  a  lady  asked  'em  to 
Christmas." 

"  That  was  a  mean  thing  to  do,"  said  Jerry, 
taking  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  for  a  longer 
speech  than  he  had  ever  been  known  to  make 
while  smoking. 

Mrs.  Crehore  stopped  in  her  dish-wiping,  sat 
down,  and  gave  her  opinion.  She  did  not 
know  what  a  Christmas-tree  was,  having  nevei 
seed  one  nor  heared  of  one.  But  she  did  know 
that  those  who  went  to  see  a  lady  should  show 
manners  and  behave  like  jintlemen,  or  not  go  at 
all.  She  expressed  her  conviction  that  Tom 
Mulligan  was  rightly  served,  and  her  regret 
that  he  had  not  two  black  eyes  instead  of  one. 
She  would  have  been  glad,  indeed,  if  certain 
Floyds,  and  Sullivans,  and  Flahertys  with  whose 


86  ALICE'S  CHBISTMAS-TREE. 

names   of  baptism   she  was  better  acquainted 
than  I  am,  had  shared  a  similar  fate. 

This  oration,  and  the  oracle  of  his  father  still 
more,  appeased  Pat  somewhat;  and  when  his 
supper  was  finished,  after  long  silence,  he  said, 
"  We  'U  give  her  a  Christmas  present.  We  will. 
Tom  Mulligan  and  Bill  Floyd  and  I  will  give 
it.  The  others  sha'n't  know.  I  know  what 
we'll  give  her.  I 'U  tell  BUI  Floyd  that  we 
made  her  cry." 

CHAPTER  m. 

AFTER  supper,  accordingly,  Pat  Crehore  re 
paired  to  certain  rendezvous  of  the  younger 
life  of  the  neighborhood,  known  to  him,  in 
search  of  Bill  Floyd.  Bill  was  not  at  the  first, 
nor  at  the  second,  there  being  indeed  no  rule 
or  principle  known  to  men  or  even  to  arch 
angels  by  which  Bill's  presence  at  any  par 
ticular  spot  at  any  particular  time  could  be 
definitely  stated.  But  Bill  also,  in  his  proud 
free-will,  obeyed  certain  general  laws;  and 
accordingly  Pat  found  him  inspecting,  as  a 
volunteer  officer  of  police,  the  hauling  out  and 
oiling  of  certain  hose  at  the  house  of  a  neigh- 


ALICE'S    CHRISTMAS-TKEE.  87 

boring  hose  company.      "  Come  here,  Bill.      I 
got  something  to  show  you." 

Bill  had  already  carried  home  and  put  in  safe 
keeping  a  copy  of  Routledge's  "  Robinson 
Crusoe,"  which  had  been  given  to  him. 

He  left  the  hose  inspection  willingly,  and 
hurried  along  with  Pat,  past  many  attractive 
groups,  not  even  stopping  where  a  brewer's 
horse  had  fallen  on  the  ground,  till  Pat  brought 
him  in  triumph  to  the  gaudy  window  of  a  shoe- 
shop,  lighted  up  gayly  and  full  of  the  wares  by 
which  even  shoe-shops  lure  in  customers  for 
Christmas. 

"  See  there  I  "  said  Pat,  nearly  breathless. 
And  he  pointed  to  the  very  centre  of  the  dis 
play,  a  pair  of  slippers  made  from  bronze-gilt 
kid,  and  displaying  a  hideous  blue  silk  bow 
upon  the  gilding.  For  what  class  of  dancers 
or  of  maskers  these  slippers  may  have  been 
made,  or  by  what  canon  of  beauty,  I  know  not. 
Only  they  were  the  centre  of  decoration  in  the 
shoe-shop  window.  Pat  looked  at  them  with 
admiration,  as  he  had  often  done,  and  said 
again  to  Bill  Floyd,  "  See  there,  ain't  them 
handsome  ?  " 

"  Golly  !  "  said  Bill,  "  I  guess  so." 


88  ALICE'S  CHRISTMAS-TUBE. 

"  Bill,  let 's  buy  them  little  shoes,  and  give 
'em  to  her." 

"  Give  'em  to  who  ?  "  said  Bill,  from  whose 
mind  the  Christmas-tree  had  for  the  moment 
faded,  under  the  rivalry  of  the  hose  company, 
the  brewer's  horse,  and  the  shop  window. 
"  Give  'em  to  who  ?  " 

"  Why,  her,  I  don't  know  who  she  is.  The 
gal  that  made  the  what-do-ye-call-it,  the  tree, 
you  know,  and  give  us  the  oranges,  where  old 
Purdy  was.  I  say,  Bill,  it  was  a  mean  dirty 
shame  to  make  such  a  row  there,  when  we 
was  bid  to  a  party ;  and  I  want  to  make  the  gal 
a  present,  for  I  see  her  crying,  Bill.  Crying 
cos  it  was  such  a  row."  Again,  I  omit  certain 
profane  expressions  which  did  not  add  any  real 
energy  to  the  declaration. 

"  They  is  handsome,"  said  Bill,  meditatingly. 
"  Ain't  the  blue  ones  handsomest  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Pat,  who  saw  he  had  gained  his 
lodgment,  and  that  the  carrying  his  point  was 
now  only  a  matter  of  time.  "  The  gould  ones 
is  the  ones  for  me.  We  '11  give  'em  to  the  gal 
for  a  Christmas  present,  you  and  I  and  Tom 
Mulligan." 

Bill  Floyd  did  not  dissent,  being  indeed  in 


j»Hit  nun  WML  ol/nuul, 

Los  Angeles,  Cai. 
ALICE'S   CHRISTMAS-TREE.  89 


the  habit  of  going  as  he  was  led,  as  were  most 
of  the  "  rebel  rout "  with  whom  he  had  an  hour 
ago  been  acting.  He  assented  entirely  to  Pat's 
proposal.  By  "  Christmas  "  both  parties  under 
stood  that  the  present  was  to  be  made  before 
Twelfth  Night,  not  necessarily  on  Christmas  day. 
Neither  of  them  had  a  penny  ;  but  both  of  them 
knew,  perfectly  well,  that  whenever  they  chose 
to  get  a  little  money  they  could  do  so. 

They  soon  solved  their  first  question,  as  to 
the  cost  of  the  coveted  slippers.  True,  they 
knew,  of  course,  that  they  would  be  ejected 
from  the  decent  shop  if  they  went  in  to  inquire. 
But,  by  lying  in  wait,  they  soon  discovered 
Delia  Sullivan,  a  decent-looking  girl  they  knew, 
passing  by,  and  having  made  her  their  confidant, 
so  far  that  she  was  sure  she  was  not  fooled,  they 
sent  her  in  to  inquire.  The  girl  returned  to 
announce,  to  the  astonishment  of  all  parties, 
that  the  shoes  cost  six  dollars. 

"Hew!"  cried  Pat,  "six  dollars  for  them 
are !  I  bought  my  mother's  new  over-shoes  for 
one."  But  not  the  least  did  he  'bate  of  his 
determination,  and  he  and  Bill  Floyd  went  in 
search  of  Tom  Mulligan. 

Tom  was  found  as  easily  as  Bill.     But  it  was 


90  ALICE'S  CHRISTMAS-TREE. 

not  so  easy  to  enlist  him.  Tom  was  in  a  regular 
corner  liquor  store  with  men  who  were  sitting 
smoking,  drinking,  and  telling  dirty  stories. 
Either  of  the  other  boys  would  have  been 
whipped  at  home  if  he  had  been  known  to  be 
seen  sitting  in  this  place,  and  the  punishment 
would  have  been  well  bestowed.  But  Tom 
Mulligan  had  had  nobody  thrash  him  for  many 
a  day  till  John  Flagg  had  struck  out  so  smartly 
from  the  shoulder.  Perhaps,  had  there  been 
some  thrashing  as  discriminating  as  Jerry  Fla 
herty's,  it  had  been  better  for  Tom  Mulligan. 
The  boys  found  him  easily  enough,  but,  as  I 
said,  had  some  difficulty  in  getting  him  away. 
"With  many  assurances,  however,  that  they  had 
something  to  tell  him,  and  something  to  show 
him,  they  lured  him  from  the  shadow  of  the 
comfortable  stove  into  the  night. 

Pat  Crehore,  who  had  more  of  the  tact  of 
oratory  than  he  knew,  then  boldly  told  Tom 
Mulligan  the  story  of  the  Christmas-tree,  as  it 
passed  after  Tom's  ejection.  Tom  was  sour  at 
first,  but  soon  warmed  to  the  narrative,  and 
even  showed  indignation  at  the  behavior  of 
boys  who  had  seemed  to  carry  themselves  less 
obnoxiously  than  he  did.  All  the  boys  agreed, 


ALICE'S   CHRISTMAS-TREE.  91 

that  but  for  certain  others  who  had  never  been 
asked  to  come,  and  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  be 
there  with  them  as  were,  there  would  have  been 
no  row.  They  all  agreed  that  on  some  suitable 
occasion  unknown  to  me  and  to  this  story  they 
would  take  vengeance  on  these  Tidds  and  Sul- 
livans.  When  Pat  Crehore  wound  up  his 
statement,  by  telling  how  he  saw  the  ladies 
crying,  and  all  the  pretty  room  looking  like  a 
pig-sty,  Tom  Mulligan  was  as  loud  as  he  was 
in  saying  that  it  was  all  wrong,  and  that  nobody 
but  blackguards  would  have  joined  in  it,  in 
particular  such  blackguards  as  the  Tidds  and 
Sullivans  above  alluded  to. 

Then  to  Tom's  sympathizing  ear  was  confided 
the  project  of  the  gold  shoes,  as  the  slippers 
were  always  called,  in  this  honorable  company. 
And  Tom  completely  approved.  He  even 
approved  the  price.  He  explained  to  the  others 
that  it  would  be  mean  to  give  to  a  lady  any 
thing  of  less  price.  This  was  exactly  the  sum 
which  recommended  itself  to  his  better  judg 
ment.  And  so  the  boys  went  home,  agreeing  to 
meet  Christmas  morning  as  a  Committee  of 
Ways  and  Means. 

To  the  discussions  of  this  committee  I  need 


92  ALICE'S  CHKISTMAS-TBEE. 

not  admit  you.  Many  plans  were  proposed : 
one  that  they  should  serve  through  the  holidays 
at  certain  ten-pin  alleys,  known  to  them ;  one 
that  they  should  buy  off  Fogarty  from  his  news 
paper  route  for  a  few  days.  But  the  decision 
was,  that  Pat,  the  most  decent  in  appearance, 
should  dress  up  in  a  certain  Sunday  suit  he  had, 
and  offer  the  services  of  himself,  and  two  un 
known  friends  of  his,  as  extra  cork-boys  at 
Birnebaum's  brewery,  where  Tom  Mulligan 
reported  they  were  working  nights,  that  they 
might  fill  an  extra  order.  This  device  suc 
ceeded.  Pat  and  his  friends  were  put  on  duty, 
for  trial,  on  the  night  of  the  26th ;  and,  the  fore 
man  of  the  corking-room  being  satisfied,  they 
retained  their  engagements  till  New  Year's  eve, 
when  they  were  paid  three  dollars  each,  and 
resigned  their  positions. 

"  Let 's  buy  her  three  shoes !  "  said  Bill,  in 
enthusiasm  at  their  success.  But  this  proposal 
was  rejected.  Each  of  the  other  boys  had  a 
private  plan  for  an  extra  present  to  "  her  "  by 
this  time.  The  sacred  six  dollars  was  folded  up 
in  a  bit  of  straw  paper  from  the  brewery,  and 
the  young  gentlemen  went  home  to  make  their 
toilets,  a  process  they  had  had  no  chance  to  go 


ALICE'S   CHRISTMAS-TKEE.  93 

through,  on  Christmas  eve.  After  this,  there 
was  really  no  difficulty  about  Iheir  going  into 
the  shoe-shop,  and  none  about  consummating 
the  purchase,  —  to  the  utter  astonishment  of  the 
dealer.  The  gold  shoes  were  bought,  rolled  up 
in  paper,  and  ready  for  delivery. 

Bill  Floyd  had  meanwhile  learned,  by  inquiry 
at  the  chapel,  where  she  lived,  though  there 
were  doubts  whether  any  of  them  knew  her 
name.  The  others  rejected  his  proposals  that 
they  should  take  street  cars,  and  they  boldly 
pushed  afoot  up  to  Clinton  Avenue,  and  rang, 
not  without  terror,  at  the  door. 

Terror  did  not  diminish  when  black  George 
appeared,  whose  acquaintance  they  had  made  at 
the  tree.  But  fortunately  George  did  not  recog 
nize  them  in  their  apparel  of  elegance.  When 
they  asked  for  the  "  lady  that  gave  the  tree," 
he  bade  them  wait  a  minute,  and  in  less  than  a 
minute  Alice  came  running  out  to  meet  them. 
To  the  boys'  great  delight,  she  was  not  crying 
now. 

"  If  you  please,  ma'am,"  said  Tom,  who  had 
been  commissioned  as  spokesman,  —  "if  you 
please,  them 's  our  Christmas  present  to  you, 
ma'am.  Them 's  gold  shoes.  And  please, 


94  ALICE'S  CHRISTMAS-TKEE. 

ma'am,  we  're  very  sorry  there  was  such  a  row 
at  the  Christmas,  ma'am.  It  was  mean,  ma'am. 
Good-by,  ma'am." 

Alice's  eyes  were  opening  wider  and  wider, 
nor  at  this  moment  did  she  understand.  "  Gold 
shoes,"  and  "  row  at  the  Christmas,"  stuck  by 
her,  however ;  and  she  understood  there  was  a 
present.  So,  of  course,  she  said  the  right  tiling, 
by  accident,  and  did  the  right  thing,  being  a  lady 
through  and  through. 

"  No,  you  must  not  go  away.  Come  in,  boys, 
come  in.  I  did  not  know  you,  you  know."  As 
how  should  she.  "  Come  in  and  sit  down." 

"  Can't  ye  take  off  your  hat  ?  "  said  Tom,  in 
an  aside  to  Pat,  who  had  neglected  this  rever 
ence  as  he  entered.  And  Tom  was  thus  a  little 
established  in  his  own  esteem. 

And  Alice  opened  the  parcel,  and  had  her 
presence  of  mind  by  this  time  ;  and,  amazed  as 
she  was  at  the  gold  shoes,  showed  no  amaze 
ment,  —  nay,  even  slipped  off  her  own  slipper, 
and  showed  that  the  gold  shoe  fitted,  to  the 
delight  of  Tom,  who  was  trying  to  explain  that 
the  man  would  change  them  if  they  were  too 
small.  She  found  an  apple  for  each  boy, 
thanked  and  praised  each  one  separately ;  and 


ALICE'S    CHRISTMAS-TREE.  95 

the  interview  would  have  been  perfect,  had  she 
not  innocently  asked  Tom  what  was  the  matter 
with  his  eye.  Tom's  eye !  Why,  it  was  the 
black  eye  John  Flagg  gave  him.  I  am  sorry  to 
say  Bill  Floyd  sniggered  ;  but  Pat  came  to  the 
front  this  time,  and  said  "  a  man  hurt  him." 
Then  Alice  produced  some  mittens,  which  had 
been  left,  and  asked  whose  those  were.  But 
the  boys  did  not  know. 

"  I  say,  fellars,  I  'm  going  down  to  the  writing- 
school,  at  the  Union,"  said  Pat,  when  they  got 
into  the  street,  all  of  them  being  in  the  mood 
that  conceals  emotion.  "  I  say,  let 's  all  go." 

To  this  they  agreed. 

"  I  say,  I  went  there  last  week  Monday,  with 
Meg  McManus.  I  say,  fellars,  it 's  real  good  fun." 

The  other  fellows,  having  on  the  unfamiliar 
best  rig,  were  well  aware  that  they  must  not 
descend  to  their  familiar  haunts,  and  all  con 
sented. 

To  the  amazement  of  the  teacher,  these  three 
hulking  boys  allied  themselves  to  the  side  of 
order,  took  their  places  as  they  were  bidden, 
turned  the  public  opinion  of  the  class,  and  made 
the  Botany  Bay  of  the  school  to  be  its  quietest 
class  that  night. 


9t>  ALICE'S  CHKISTMAS-TREE.  » 

To  his  amazement  the  same  result  followed 
the  next  night.  And  to  his  greater  amazement, 
the  next. 

To  Alice's  amazement,  she  received  on  Twelfth 
Night  a  gilt  valentine  envelope,  within  which, 
on  heavily  ruled  paper,  were  announced  these 
truths :  — 

MAEM,  —  The  mitins  wur  Nora  Killpa  trick's. 
She  lives  inn  Water  street  place  behind  the 
Lager  Brewery. 

Yours  to  command, 

WILLIAM  FLOYD. 
THOMAS  MULLIGAN. 
PATRICK  CEEHOKE. 

The  names  which  they  could  copy  from  signs 
were  correctly  spelled. 

To  Pat's  amazement,  Tom  Mulligan  held  on 
at  the  writing-school  all  winter.  When  it  ended, 
he  wrote  the  best  hand  of  any  of  them. 

To  my  amazement,  one  evening  when  I  looked 
in  at  Longman's,  two  years  to  a  day  after  Alice's 
tree,  a  bright  black-eyed  young  man,  who  had 
tied  up  for  me  the  copy  of  Masson's  "  Milton," 
which  I  had  given  myself  for  a  Christmas 


ALICE'S   CHBISTMAS-TREE.  97 

present,  said :  "  You  don't  remember  me."  I 
owned  innocence. 

"  My  name  is  Mulligan  —  Thomas  Mulligan. 
Would  you  thank  Mr.  John  Flagg,  if  you  meet 
him,  for  a  Christmas  present  he  gave  me  two 
years  ago,  at  Miss  Alice  MacNeil's  Christmas- 
tree.  It  was  the  best  present  I  ever  had,  and 
the  only  one  I  ever  deserved." 

And  I  said  I  would  do  so. 

I  told  Alice  afterward  never  to  think  she  was 
going  to  catch  all  the  fish  there  were  in  any 
school.  I  told  her  to  whiten  the  water  with 
ground-bait  enough  for  all,  and  to  thank  God 
if  her  heavenly  fishing  were  skilful  enough  to 
save  one. 


DAILY   BREAD. 


I. 

A  QUESTION  OF  NOURISHMENT. 


"  A  ^^  now  ig  ne  ^  "  sa^  Robert,  as  he  came 
in  from  his  day's  work,  in  every  moment 
of  which  he  had  thought  of  his  child.  He 
spoke  in  a  whisper  to  his  wife,  who  met  him  in 
the  narrow  entry  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  And 
in  a  whisper  she  replied. 

"  He  is  certainly  no  worse,"  said  Mary  :  "  the 
docter  says,  maybe  a  shade  better.  At  least," 
she  said,  sitting  on  the  lower  step,  and  holding 
her  husband's  hand,  and  still  whispering,  —  "  at 
least  he  said  that  the  breathing  seemed  to  him  a 
shade  easier,  one  lung  seemed  to  him  a  little 
more  free,  and  that  it  is  now  a  question  of  time 
and  nourishment." 

"  Nourishment  ?  " 

"Yes,  nourishment,  —  and  I  own  my  heart 
Bunk  as  he  said  so.  Poor  little  thing,  he  loathes 


DAILY  BREAD.  99 

the  slops,  and  I  told  the  doctor  so.  I  told  him 
the  struggle  and  fight  to  get  them  down  his  poor 
little  throat  gave  him  more  flush  and  fever  than 
any  thing.  And  then  he  begged  me  not  to  try 
that  again,  asked  if  there  were  really  nothing 
that  the  child  would  take,  and  suggested  every 
thing  so  kindly.  But  the  poor  little  thing,  weak 
as  he  is,  seems  to  rise  up  with  supernatural 
strength  against  them  all.  I  am  not  sure, 
though,  but  perhaps  we  may  do  something  with 
the  old  milk  and  water  :  that  is  really  my  only 
hope  now,  and  that  is  the  reason  I  spoke  to  you 
so  cheerfully." 

Then  poor  Mary  explained  more  at  length 
that  Emily  had  brought  in  Dr.  Cummings's 
Manual1  about  the  use  of  milk  with  children, 
and  that  they  had  sent  round  to  the  Corlisses', 
who  always  had  good  milk,  and  had  set  a  pint 
according  to  the  direction  and  formula,  —  and 
that  though  dear  little  Jamie  had  refused  the 
groats  and  the  barley,  and  I  know  not  what 
else,  that  at  six  he  had  gladly  taken  all  the 
watered  milk  they  dared  to  give  him,  and  that 
it  now  had  rested  on  his  stomach  half  an  hour, 

1  Has  the  reader  a  delicate  infant?  Let  him  send  for  Dr. 
Cummings's  little  book  on  Milk  for  Children. 


100  DAILY  BBEAD. 

so  that  she  could  not  but  hope  that  the  tide  had 
turned,  only  she  hoped  with  trembling,  because 
he  had  so  steadily  refused  cow's  milk  only  the 
week  before. 

This  rapid  review  in  her  entry,  of  the  bulletins 
of  a  day,  is  really  the  beginning  of  this  Christ 
mas  story.  No  matter  which  day  it  was,  —  it 
was  a  little  before  Christmas,  and  one  of  the 
shortest  days,  but  I  have  forgotten  which. 
Enough  that  the  baby,  for  he  was  a  baby  still, 
just  entering  his  thirteenth  month,  —  enough 
that  he  did  relish  the  milk,  so  carefully  measured 
and  prepared,  and  hour  by  hour  took  his  little 
dole  of  it  as  if  it  had  come  from  his  mother's 
breast.  Enough  that  three  or  four  days  went 
by  so,  the  little  thing  lying  so  still  on  his  back 
in  his  crib,  his  lips  still  so  blue,  and  his  skin  of 
such  deadly  color  against  the  white  of  his  pillow, 
and  that,  twice  a  day,  as  Dr.  Morton  came  in 
and  felt  his  pulse,  and  listened  to  the  panting, 
he  smiled  and  looked  pleased,  and  said,  "  We 
are  getting  on  better  than  I  dared  expect." 
Only  every  time  he  said,  "  Does  he  still  relish 
the  milk  ?  "  and  every  time  was  so  pleased  to 
know  that  he  took  to  it  still,  and  every  day 
he  added  a  teaspoon  ful  or  two  to  the  hourly 


DAILY  BREAD.  101 

dole,  —  and  so  poor  Mary's  heart  was  lifted  day 
by  day. 

This  lasted  till  St.  Victoria's  day.  Do  you 
know  which  day  that  is  ?  It  is  the  second  day 
before  Christmas ;  and  here,  properly  speaking, 
the  story  begins. 

II. 

ST.  VICTORIA'S  DAY. 

ST.  VICTORIA'S  day  the  doctor  was  full  two 
hours  late.  Mary  was  not  anxious  about  this. 
She  was  beginning  to  feel  bravely  about  the  boy, 
and  no  longer  counted  the  minutes  till  she 
could  hear  the  door-bell  ring.  When  he  came 
he  loitered  in  the  entry  below,  —  or  she  thought 
he  did.  He  was  long  coming  up  stairs.  And 
when  he  came  in  she  saw  that  he  was  excited 
by  something,  —  was  really  even  then  panting 
for  breath. 

"I  am  here  at  last,"  he  said.  "Did  you 
think  I  should  fail  you  ?  " 

Why,  no,  —  poor  innocent  Mary  had  not 
thought  any  such  thing.  She  had  known  he 
would  come,  —  and  baby  was  so  well  that  she 
had  not  minded  his  delay. 


102  DAILY  BKEAD. 

Morton  looked  up  at  the  close  drawn  shades, 
which  shut  out  the  light,  and  said,  "  You  did 
not  think  of  the  storm  ?  " 

"  Storm  ?  no  !  "  said  poor  Mary.  She  had 
noticed,  when  Robert  went  to  the  door  at  seven 
and  she  closed  it  after  him,  that  some  snow  was 
falling.  But  she  had  not  thought  of  it  again. 
She  had  kissed  him,  told  him  to  keep  up  good 
heart,  and  had  come  back  to  her  baby. 

Then  the  doctor  told  her  that  the  storm  which 
had  begun  before  daybreak  had  been  gathering 
more  and  more  severely;  that  the  drifts  were 
already  heavier  than  he  remembered  them  in  all 
his  Boston  life ;  that  after  half  an  hour's  trial 
in  his  sleigh  he  had  been  glad  to  get  back  to 
the  stable  with  his  horse ;  and  that  all  he  had 
done  since  he  had  done  on  foot,  with  difficulty 
she  could  not  conceive  of.  He  had  been  so 
long  down  stairs  while  he  brushed  the  snow 
off,  that  he  might  be  fit  to  come  near  the  child. 
.  "  And  really,  Mrs.  Walter,  we  are  doing  so 
well  here,"  he  said  cheerfully,  "  that  I  will  not 
try  to  come  round  this  afternoon,  unless  you 
see  a  change.  If  you  do,  your  husband  must 
come  up  for  me,  you  know.  But  you  will  not 
need  me,  I  am  sure." 


DALLY   BREAD.  103 

Mary  felt  quite  brave  to  think  that  they 
should  not  need  him  really  for  twenty-four 
hours,  and  said  so;  and  added,  with  the  first 
smile  he  had  seen  for  a  fortnight :  "  I  do  not 
know  anybody  to  whom  it  is  of  less  account 
than  to  me,  whether  the  streets  are  blocked  or 
open.  Only  I  am  sorry  for  you." 

Poor  Mary,  how  often  she  thought  of  that 
speech,  before  Christmas  day  went  by !  But 
she  did  not  think  of  it  all  through  St.  Victoria's 
day.  Her  husband  did  not  come  home  to 
dinner.  She  did  not  expect  him.  The  children 
came  from  school  at  two,  rejoicing  in  the  long 
morning  session  and  the  half  holiday  of  the 
afternoon  which  had  been  earned  by  it.  They 
had  some  story  of  their  frolic  in  the  snow,  and 
after  dinner  went  quietly  away  to  their  little 
play-room  in  the  attic.  And  Mary  sat  with 
her  baby  all  the  afternoon,  —  nor  wanted  other 
company.  She  could  count  his  breathing  now, 
and  knew  how  to  time  it  by  the  watch,  and  she 
knew  that  it  was  steadier  and  slower  than  it 
was  the  day  before.  And  really  he  almost 
showed  an  appetite  for  the  hourly  dole.  Her 
husband  was  not  late.  He  had  taken  care  of 
that,  and  had  left  the  shop  an  hour  early.  And 


104  DAILY   BREAD. 

as  he  came  in  and  looked  at  the  child  from  the 
other  side  of  the  crib,  and  smiled  so  cheerfully 
on  her,  Mary  felt  that  she  could  not  enough 
thank  God  for  his  mercy. 


III. 
ST.  VICTORIA'S  DAY  IN  THE  COUNTRY. 

FIVE  and  twenty  miles  away  was  another 
mother,  with  a  baby  born  the  same  day  as 
Jamie.  Mary  had  never  heard  of  her  and 
never  has  heard  of  her,  and,  unless  she  reads 
this  story,  never  will  hear  of  her  till  they  meet 
together  in  the  other  home,  look  each  other  in 
the  face,  and  know  as  they  are  known.  Yet 
their  two  lives,  as  you  shall  see,  are  twisted 
together,  as  indeed  are  all  lives,  only  they  do 
not  know  it  —  as  how  should  they  ? 

A  great  day  for  Huldah  Stevens  was  this 
St.  Victoria's  day.  Not  that  she  knew  its 
name  more  than  Mary  did.  Indeed  it  was  only 
of  late  years  that  Huldah  Stevens  had  cared 
much  for  keeping  Christmas  day.  But  of  late 
years  they  had  all  thought  of  it  more ;  and  this 
year,  on  Thanksgiving  day,  at  old  Mr.  Stevens's, 


DAILY   BREAD. 

after  great  joking  about  the  young  people's 
housekeeping,  it  had  been  determined,  with 
some  banter,  that  the  same  party  should  meet 
with  John  and  Huldah  on  Christmas  eve,  with 
all  Huldah's  side  of  the  house  besides,  to  a  late 
dinner  or  early  supper,  as  the  guests  might 
please  to  call  it.  Little  difference  between  the 
meals,  indeed,  was  there  ever  in  the  profusion 
of  these  country  homes.  The  men  folks  were 
seldom  at  home  at  the  noon-day  meal,  call  it 
what  you  will.  For  they  were  all  in  the  milk- 
business,  as  you  will  see.  And,  what  with 
collecting  the  milk  from  the  hill-farms,  on  the 
one  hand,  and  then  carrying  it  for  delivery  at 
the  three  o'clock  morning  milk-train,  on  the  other 
hand,  any  hours  which  you,  dear  reader,  might 
consider  systematic,  or  of  course  in  country  life, 
were  certainly  always  set  aside.  But,  after 
much  conference,  as  I  have  said,  it  had  been 
determined  at  the  Thanksgiving  party  that  all 
hands  in  both  families  should  meet  at  John  and 
Huldah's  as  near  three  o'clock  as  they  could 
the  day  before  Christmas ;  and  then  and  there 
Huldah  was  to  show  her  powers  in  entertaining 
at  her  first  state  family  party. 

So  this  St.  Victoria's  day  was  a  great  day  of 


106  DAILY   BKEAD. 

preparation  for  Huldah,  if  she  had  only  known 
its  name,  as  she  did  not.  For  she  was  of  the 
kind  which  prepares  in  time,  not  of  the  kind 
that  is  caught  out  when  the  company  come 
with  the  work  half  done.  And  as  John  started 
on  his  collection  beat  that  morning  at  about  the 
hour  Robert,  in  town,  kissed  Mary  good-by, 
Huldah  stood  on  the  step  with  him,  and  looked 
with  satisfaction  on  the  gathering  snow,  because 
it  would  make  better  sleighing  the  next  day 
for  her  father  and  mother  to  come  over.  She 
charged  him  not  to  forget  her  box  of  raisins 
when  he  came  back,  and  to  ask  at  the  express 
if  anything  came  up  from  town,  bade  him  good- 
by,  and  turned  back  into  the  house,  not  wholly 
dissatisfied  to  be  almost  alone.  She  washed  her 
baby,  gave  him  his  first  lunch  and  put  him  to 
bed.  Then,  with  the  coast  fairly  clear,  —  what 
woman  does  not  enjoy  a  clear  coast,  if  it  only 
be  early  enough  in  the  morning  ?  —  she  dipped 
boldly  and  wisely  into  her  flour-barrel,  stripped 
her  plump  round  arms  to  their  work,  and  began 
on  the  pie-crust  which  was  to  appear  to-morrow 
in  the  fivefold  forms  of  apple,  cranberry,  Marl 
boro',  mince,  and  squash, — careful  and  discrimi 
nating  in  the  nice  chemistry  of  her  mixtures  and 


DAILY   BREAD.  107 

the  nice  manipulations  of  her  handicraft,  but  in 
nowise  dreading  the  issue.  A  long,  active,  lively 
morning  she  had  of  it.  Not  dissatisfied  with  the 
stages  of  her  work,  step  by  step  she  advanced, 
stage  by  stage  she  attained  of  the  elaborate  plan 
which  was  well  laid  out  in  her  head,  but,  of 
course,  had  never  been  intrusted  to  words,  far 
less  to  tell-tale  paper.  From  the  oven  at  last 
came  the  pies,  — and  she  was  satisfied  with  the 
color ;  from  the  other  oven  came  the  turkey, 
which  she  proposed  to  have  cold,  —  as  a  relay, 
or  piece  de  resistance,  for  any  who  might  not  be 
at  hand  at  the  right  moment  for  dinner.  Into 
the  empty  oven  went  the  clove-blossoming  ham, 
which,  as  it  boiled,  had  given  the  least  appetiz 
ing  odor  to  the  kitchen.  In  the  pretty  moulds 
in  the  woodshed .  stood  the  translucent  cran 
berry  hardening  to  its  fixed  consistency.  In 
other  moulds  the  obedient  calf's  foot  already 
announced  its  willingness  and  intention  to 
"  gell "  as  she  directed.  Huldah's  decks  were 
cleared  again,  her  kitchen  table  fit  to  cut  out 
"work"  upon,  —  all  the  pans  and  plates  were 
put  away,  which  accumulate  so  mysteriously 
where  cooking  is  going  forward ;  on  its  nail 
hung  the  weary  jigger,  on  its  hook  the  spicy 


108  DAILY  BREAD. 

grater,  on  the  roller  a  fresh  towel.  Everything 
gave  sign  of  victory,  the  whole  kitchen  look 
ing  only  a  little  nicer  than  usual.  Huldah  her 
self  was  dressed  for  the  afternoon,  and  so  was 
the  baby;  and  nobody  but  as  acute  observers 
as  you  and  I  would  have  known  that  she  had 
been  in  action  all  along  the  line  and  had  won 
the  battle  at  every  point,  when  two  o'clock 
came,  the  earliest  moment  at  which  her  husband 
ever  returned. 

Then  for  the  first  time  it  occurred  to  Huldah 
to  look  out  doors  and  see  how  fast  the  snow  was 
gathering.  She  knew  it  was  still  falling.  But 
the  storm  was  a  quiet  one,  and  she  had  had  too 
much  to  do  to  be  gaping  out  of  the  windows. 
She  went  to  the  shed  door,  and  to  her  amaze 
ment  saw  that  the  north  wood-pile  was  wholly 
drifted  in  !  Nor  could  she,  as  she  stood,  see  the 
fences  of  the  roadway ! 

Huldah  ran  back  into  the  house,  opened  the 
parlor  door  and  drew  up  the  curtain,  to  see  that 
there  were  indeed  no  fences  on  the  front  of  the 
house  to  be  seen.  On  the  northwest,  where 
the  wind  had  full  sweep,  —  between  her  and  the 
barn,  the  ground  was  bare.  But  all  that  snow 
—  and  who  should  say  how  much  more? — was 


DAILY   BREAD.  109 

piled  up  in  front  of  her ;  so  that  unless  Huldah 
had  known  every  landmark,  she  would  not  have 
suspected  that  any  road  was  ever  there.  She 
looked  uneasily  out  at  the  northwest  windows, 
but  she  could  not  see  an  inch  to  windward: 
dogged  snow  —  snow  —  snow  —  as  if  it  would 
never  be  done. 

Huldah  knew  very  well  then  that  there  was 
no  husband  for  her  in  the  next  hour,  nor  most 
like  in  the  next  or  the  next.  She  knew  very 
well  too  what  she  had  to  do  ;  and,  knowing  it, 
she  did  it.  She  tied  on  her  hood,  and  buttoned 
tight  around  her  her  rough  sack,  passed  through 
the  shed  and  crossed  that  bare  strip  to  the  barn, 
opened  the  door  with  some  difficulty,  because 
snow  was  already  drifting  into  the  doorway, 
and  entered.  She  gave  the  cows  and  oxen 
their  water  and  the  two  night  horses  theirs,  — 
went  up  into  the  loft  and  pitched  down  hay 
enough  for  all,  —  went  down  stairs  to  the  pigs 
and  cared  for  them,  —  took  one  of  the  barn 
shovels  and  cleared  a  path  where  she  had  had 
to  plunge  into  the  snow  at  the  doorway,  took 
the  shovel  back,  and  then  crossed  home  again 
to  her  baby.  She  thought  she  saw  the  Emp- 
sons'  chimney  smoking  as  she  went  home,  and 


110  DAILY   BREAD. 

that  seemed  companionable.  She  took  off  her 
over-shoes,  sack,  and  hood,  said  aloud,  "  This 
will  be  a  good  stay-at-home  day,"  brought 
round  her  desk  to  the  kitchen  table,  and  began 
on  a  nice  long  letter  to  her  brother  Cephas  in 
Seattle. 

That  letter  was  finished,  eight  good  quarto 
pages  written,  and  a  long  delayed  letter  to 
Emily  Tabor,  whom  Huldah  had  not  seen  since 
she  was  married ;  and  a  long  pull  at  her  milk 
accounts  had  brought  them  up  to  date,  —  and 
still  no  John.  Huldah  had  the  table  all  set, 
you  may  be  sure  of  that ;  but,  for  herself,  she 
had  had  no  heart  to  go  through  the  formalities 
of  lunch  or  dinner.  A  cup  of  tea  and  some 
thing  to  eat  with  it  as  she  wrote  did  better,  she 
thought,  for  her,  —  and  she  could  eat  when 
the  men  came.  It  is  a  way  women  have.  Not 
till  it  became  quite  dark,  and  she  set  her  kero 
sene  lamp  in  the  window  that  he  might  have 
a  chance  to  see  it  when  he  turned  the  Locust 
Grove  corner,  did  Huldah  once  feel  herself 
lonely,  or  permit  herself  to  wish  that  she  did 
not  live  in  a  place  where  she  could  be  cut  off 
from  all  her  race.  "  If  John  had  gone  into 
paitnership  with  Joe  Winter  and  we  had  lived 


DAILY   BREAD.  Ill 

in  Boston."  This  was  the  thought  that  crossed 
her  mind.  Dear  Huldah,  —  from  the  end  of  one 
summer  to  the  beginning  of  the  next,  Joe  Win 
ter  does  not  go  home  to  his  dinner ;  and  what 
you  experience  to-day,  so  far  as  absence  from 
your  husband  goes,  is  what  his  wife  experiences 
in  Boston  ten  months,  save  Sundays,  in  every 
year. 

I  do  not  mean  that  Huldah  winced  or  whined. 
Not  she.  Only  she  did  think  "  if."  Then  she 
sat  in  front  of  the  stove  and  watched  the  coals, 
and  for  a  little  while  continued  to  think  "if." 
Not  long.  Very  soon  she  was  engaged  in  plan 
ning  how  she  would  arrange  the  table  to-mor 
row,  —  whether  Mother  Stevens  should  cut  the 
chicken-pie,  or  whether  she  would  have  that 
in  front  of  her  own  mother.  Then  she  fell  to 
planning  what  she  would  make  for  Cynthia's 
baby,  —  and  then  to  wondering  whether  Cephas 
was  in  earnest  in  that  half  nonsense  he  wrote 
about  Sibyl  Dyer,  —  and  then  the  clock  struck 
six! 

No  bells  yet, — no  husband,  —  no  anybody. 
Lantern  out  and  lighted.  Rubber  boots  on, 
hood  and  sack.  Shed-shovel  in  one  hand,  lan 
tern  in  the  other.  Roadway  still  bare,  but  a 


112  DAILY  BREAD. 

drift  as  high  as  Huldah's  shoulders  at  the  barn 
door.  Lantern  on  the  ground ;  snow-shovel  in 
both  hands  now.  One,  two,  three !  —  one 
cubic  foot  out.  One,  two,  three  !  —  another 
cubic  foot  out.  And  so  on,  and  so  on,  and  so 
on,  till  the  doorway  is  clear  again.  Lantern  in 
one  hand,  snow-shovel  in  the  other,  we  enter 
the  barn,  draw  the  water  for  cows  and  oxen,  — 
we  shake  down  more  hay,  and  see  to  the  pigs 
again.  This  time  we  make  beds  of  straw  for 
the  horses  and  the  cattle.  Nay,  we  linger  a 
minute  or  two,  for  there  is  something  compan 
ionable  there.  Then  we  shut  them  in,  in  the 
dark,  and  cross  the  well-cleared  roadway  to  the 
shed,  and  so  home  again.  Certainly  Mrs.  Emp- 
son's  kerosene  lamp  is  in  her  window.  That 
must  be  her  light  which  gives  a  little  halo  in 
that  direction  in  the  falling  snow.  That  looks 
like  society. 

And  this  time  Huldah  undresses  the  baby, 
puts  on  her  yellow  flannel  night-gown,  —  makes 
the  whole  as  long  as  it  may  be,  —  and  then,  still 
making  believe  be  jolly,  lights  another  lamp, 
eats  her  own  supper,  clears  it  away,  and  cuts 
into  the  new  Harper  which  John  had  brought 
up  to  her  the  day  before. 


DAILY  BREAD.  113 

But  the  Harper  is  dull  reading  to  her, 
though  generally  so  attractive.  And  when 
her  Plymouth-Hollow  clock  consents  to  strike 
eight  at  last,  Huldah,  who  has  stinted  herself 
to  read  till  eight,  gladly  puts  down  the  "  Travels 
in  Arizona,"  which  seem  to  her  as  much  like 
the  "  Travels  in  Peru,"  of  the  month  before,  as 
those  had  seemed  like  the  "  Travels  in  Chin 
chilla."  Rubber  boots  again,  —  lantern  again, 
—  sack  and  hood  again.  The  men  will  be  in 
no  case  for  milking  when  they  come.  So 
Huldah  brings  together  their  pails,  —  takes 
her  shovel  once  more  and  her  lantern,  —  digs 
out  the  barn  drift  again,  and  goes  over  to  milk 
little  Carry  and  big  Fanchon.  For,  though  the 
milking  of  a  hundred  cows  passes  under  those 
roofs  and  out  again  every  day,  Huldah "  is  far 
too  conservative  to  abandon  the  custom  which 
she  inherits  from  some  Thorfinn  or  some  Elfrida, 
and  her  husband  is  well  pleased  to  humor  her 
in  keeping  in  that  barn  always,  at  least  two  of 
the  choicest  three-quarter  blood  cows  that  he 
can  choose,  for  the  family  supply.  Only,  in 
general,  he  or  Reuben  milks  them ;  as  duties 
are  divided  there,  this  is  not  Huldah's  share. 
But  on  this  eve  of  St.  Spiridion  the  gentle  creat- 


114  DAILY  BKEAD. 

ures  were  glad  when  she  came  in ;  and  in  two 
journeys  back  and  forth  Huldah  had  carried  her 
well-filled  pails  into  her  dairy.  This  helped 
along  the  hour,  and  just  after  nine  o'clock 
struck,  she  could  hear  the  cheers  of  the  men  at 
last.  She  ran  out  again  with  the  ready  lighted 
lantern  to  the  shed-door,  —  in  an  instant  had 
on  her  boots  and  sack  and  hood,  had  crossed 
to  the  barn,  and  slid  open  the  great  barn  door, 
—  and  stood  there  with  her  light,  —  another 
Hero  for  another  Leander  to  buffet  towards, 
through  the  snow.  A  sight  to  see  were  the 
two  men,  to  be  sure !  And  a  story,  indeed, 
they  had  to  tell !  On  their  different  beats 
they  had  fought  snow  all  day,  had  been  break 
ing  roads  with  the  help  of  the  farmers  where 
they  could,  had  had  to  give  up  more  than  half 
of  the  outlying  farms,  sending  such  messages 
as  they  might,  that  the  outlying  farmers  might 
bring  down  to-morrow's  milk  to  such  stations 
as  they  could  arrange,  and,  at  last,  by  good 
luck,  had  both  met  at  the  ddpot  in  the  hollow, 
where  each  had  gone  to  learn  at  what  hour  the 
milk-train  might  be  expected  in  the  morning. 
Little  reason  was  there,  indeed,  to  expect  it  at 
all.  Nothing  had  passed  the  station-master 


DAILY  BBEAD.  115 

since  the  morning  express,  called  lightning  by 
satire,  had  slowly  pushed  up  with  three  or  four 
engines  five  hours  behind  its  time,  and  just  now 
had  come  down  a  messenger  from  them  that 
he  should  telegraph  to  Boston  that  they  were 
all  blocked  up  at  Tyler's  Summit,  —  the  snow 
drifting  beneath  their  wheels  faster  than  they 
could  clear  it.  Above,  the  station-master  said, 
nothing  whatever  had  yet  passed  Winchendon. 
Five  engines  had  gone  out  from  Fitchburg  east 
ward,  but  in  the  whole  day  they  had  not  come 
as  far  as  Leominster.  It  was  very  clear  that  no 
milk-train  nor  any  other  train  would  be  on  time 
the  next  morning. 

Such  was,  in  brief,  John's  report  to  Huldah, 
when  they  had  got  to  that  state  of  things  in 
which  a  man  can  make  a  report ;  that  is,  after 
they  had  rubbed  dry  the  horses,  had  locked  up 
the  barn,  after  the  men  had  rubbed  themselves 
dry,  and  had  put  on  dry  clothing,  and  after  each 
of  them,  sitting  on  the  fire  side  of  the  table,  had 
drunk  his  first  cup  of  tea,  and  eaten  his  first 
square  cubit  of  dipped-toast.  After  the  dipped- 
toast,  they  were  going  to  begin  on  Huldah's 
fried  potatoes  and  sausages. 

Huldah  heard  their  stories  with  all  their  infi- 


116  DAILY  BKEAD. 

nite  little  details ;  knew  every  corner  and  turn 
by  which  they  had  husbanded  strength  and  life  ; 
was  grateful  to  the  Corbetts  and  Varnums  and 
Prescotts  and  the  rest,  who,  with  their  oxen  and 
their  red  right  hands,  had  given  such  loyal  help 
for  the  common  good ;  and  she  heaved  a  deep 
sigh  when  the  story  ended  with  the  verdict  of 
the  failure  of  the  whole,  —  "  No  trains  on  time 
to-morrow." 

"  Bad  for  the  Boston  babies,"  said  Reuben 
bluntly,  giving  words  to  what  the  others  were 
feeling.  "  Poor  little  things !  "  said  Huldah, 
"  Alice  has  been  so  pretty  all  day."  And  she 
gulped  down  just  one  more  sigh,  disgusted  with 
herself,  as  she  remembered  that  "  if "  of  the 
afternoon, —  "  if  John  had  only  gone  into  part 
nership  with  Joe  Winter." 

IV. 

HOW  THEY  BROKE  THE  BLOCKADE. 

THREE  o'clock  in  the  morning  saw  Huldah's 
fire  burning  in  the  stove,  her  water  boiling  in  the 
kettle,  her  slices  of  ham  broiling  on  the  gridiron, 
and  quarter-past  three  saw  the  men  come  across 
from  the  barn,  where  they  had  been  shaking 


DAILY   BREAD.  117 

down  hay  for  the  cows  and  horses,  and  yoking 
the  oxen  for  the  terrible  onset  of  the.  day.  It 
was  bright  star-light  above,  —  thank  Heaven 
for  that.  This  strip  of  three  hundred  thousand 
square  miles  of  snow  cloud,  which  had  been 
drifting  steadily  east  over  a  continent,  was,  it 
seemed,  only  twenty  hours  wide,  —  say  two 
hundred  miles,  more  or  less, — and  at  about 
midnight  its  last  flecks  had  fallen,  and  all  the 
heaven  was  washed  black  and  clear.  The  men 
were  well  rested  by  those  five  hours  of  hard 
sleep.  They  were  fitly  dressed  for  their  great 
encounter  and  started  cheerily  upon  it,  as  men 
who  meant  to  do  their  duty,  and  to  both  of 
whom,  indeed,  the  thought  had  come,  that  life 
and  death  might  be  trembling  in  their  hands. 
They  did  not  take  out  the  pungs  to-day,  nor,  of 
course,  the  horses.  Such  milk  as  they  had  col 
lected  on  St.  Victoria's  day  they  had  stored 
already  at  the  station,  and  at  Stacy's  ;  and  the 
best  they  could  do  to-day  would  be  to  break 
open  the  road  from  the  Four  Corners  to  the  sta 
tion,  that  they  might  place  as  many  cans  as  pos 
sible  there  before  the  down- train  came.  From 
the  house,  then,  they  had  only  to  drive  down 
their  oxen  that  they  might  work  with  the  other 


118  DAILY  BREAD. 

teams  from  the  Four  Corners ;  and  it  was  only  by 
begging  him,  that  Huldah  persuaded  Reuben  to 
take  one  lunch-can  for  them  both.  Then,  as 
Reuben  left  the  door,  leaving  John  to  kiss  her 
"  good-by,"  and  to  tell  her  not  to  be  alarmed 
if  they  did  not  come  home  at  night,  —  she  gave 
to  John  the  full  milk-can  into  which  she  had 
poured  every  drop  of  Carry's  milk,  and  said,  "  It 
will  be  one  more ;  and  God  knows  what  child 
may  be  crying  for  it  now." 

So  they  parted  for  eight  and  twenty  hours  ; 
and  in  place  of  Huldah's  first  state  party  of  both 
families,  she  and  Alice  reigned  solitary  that  day, 
and  held  their  little  court  with  never  a  suitor. 
And  when  her  lunch-time  came,  Huldah  looked 
half-mournfully,  half-merrily,  on  her  array  of 
dainties  prepared  for  the  feast,  and  she  would 
not  touch  one  of  them.  She  toasted  some  bread 
before  the  fire,  made  a  cup  of  tea,  boiled  an  egg, 
and  would  not  so  much  as  set  the  table.  As 
has  been  before  stated,  this  is  the  way  with 
women. 

And  of  the  men,  who  shall  tell  the  story  of 
the  pluck  and  endurance,  of  the  unfailing  good 
will,  of  the  resource  in  strange  emergency,  of  the 
mutual  help  and  common  courage  with  which  all 


DAILY  BREAD.  119 

the  men  worked  that  day  on  that  well-nigh 
hopeless  ..task  of  breaking  open  the  highway 
from  the  Corners  to  the  station?  Well-nigh 
hopeless,  indeed;  for  although  at  first,  with 
fresh  cattle  and  united  effort,  they  made  in  the 
hours,  which  passed  so  quickly  up  to  ten  o'clock, 
near  two  miles  headway,  and  had  brought  yes 
terday's  milk  thus  far,  —  more  than  half  way  to 
their  point  of  delivery,  —  at  ten  o'clock  it  was 
quite  evident  that  this  sharp  northwest  wind, 
which  told  so  heavily  on  the  oxen  and  even  on 
the  men,  was  filling  in  the  very  roadway  they 
had  opened,  and-  so  was  cutting  them  off  from 
their  base,  and,  by  its  new  drifts,  was  leaving 
the  roadway  for  to-day's  milk  even  worse  than  it 
was  when  they  began.  In  one  of  those  extem 
porized  councils,  then,  —  such  as  fought  the 
battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  and  threw  the  tea  into 
Boston  harbor,  —  it  was  determined,  at  ten 
o'clock,  to  divide  the  working  parties.  The 
larger  body  should  work  back  to  the  Four  Cor 
ners,  and  by  proper  relays  keep  that  trunk  line 
of  road  open,  if  they  could ;  while  six  yoke,  with 
then-  owners,  still  pressing  forward  to  the  sta 
tion,  should  make  a  new  base  at  Lovejoy's, 
where,  when  these  oxen  gave  out,  they  could  be 


120  DAILY  BKEAD. 

put  up  at  his  barn.  It  was  quite  clear,  indeed, 
to  the  experts  that  that  time  was  not  far  dis 
tant. 

And  so,  indeed,  it  proved.  By  three  in  the 
afternoon,  John  and  Reuben  and  the  other 
leaders  of  the  advance  party — namely,  the  whole 
of  it,  for  such  is  the  custom  of  New  England  — 
gathered  around  the  fire  at  Lovejoy's,  conscious 
that  after  twelve  hours  of  such  battle  as  Pavia 
never  saw,  nor  Roncesvalles,  they  were  defeated 
at  every  point  but  one.  Before  them  the  mile 
of  road  which  they  had  made  in  the  steady  work 
of  hours  was  drifted  in  again  as  smooth  as  the 
surrounding  pastures,  only  if  possible  a  little 
more  treacherous  for  the  labor  which  they  had 
thrown  away  upon  it.  The  oxen  which  had 
worked  kindly  and  patiently,  well  handled  by 
good-tempered  men,  yet  all  confused  and  half 
dead  with  exposure,  could  do  no  more.  Well, 
indeed,  if  those  that  had  been  stalled  fast,  and 
had  had  to  stand  in  that  biting  wind  after  gigan 
tic  effort,  escaped  with  their  lives  from  such 
exposure.  All  that  the  men  had  gained  was 
that  they  had  advanced  their  first  de*p<3t  of  milk 
—  two  hundred  and  thirty-nine  cans  —  as  far  as 
Lovejoy's.  What  supply  might  have  worked 


DAILY  BREAD.  121 

down  to  the  Four  Corners  behind  them,  they 
did  not  know  and  hardly  cared,  their  communi 
cations  that  way  being  well-nigh  cut  off  again. 
What  they  thought  of,  and  planned  for,  was  sim 
ply  how  these  cans  at  Lovejoy's  could  be  put  on 
any  downward  train.  For  by  this  time  they 
knew  that  all  trains  would  have  lost  their  grades 
and  their  names,  and  that  this  milk  would  go 
into  Boston  by  the  first  engine  that  went  there, 
though  it  rode  on  the  velvet  of  a  palace  car. 

What  train  this  might  be,  they  did  not  know. 
From  the  hill  above  Lovejoy's  they  could  see 
poor  old  Dix,  the  station-master,  with  his  wife 
and  boys,  doing  his  best  to  make  an  appearance 
of  shovelling  in  front  of  his  little  station.  But 
Dix's  best  was  but  little,  for  he  had  but  one 
arm,  having  lost  the  other  in  a  collision,  and  so 
as  a  sort  of  pension  the  company  had  placed 
him  at  this  little  flag-station,  where  was  a  roof 
over  his  head,  a  few  tickets  to  sell,  and  generally 
very  little  else  to  do.  It  was  clear  enough  that 
no  working  parties  on  the  railroad  had  worked 
up  to  Dix,  or  had  worked  down  ;  nor  was  it  very 
likely  that  any  would  -before  night,  unless  the 
railroad  people  had  better  luck  with  their  drifts 
than  our  friends  had  found.  But,  as  to  this,  who 


122  DAILY  BEEAD. 

should  say?  Snow-drifts  are  "mighty  onsar- 
tain."  The  line  of  that  road  is  in  general  north 
west,  and  to-day's  wind  might  have  cleaned  out 
its  gorges  as  persistently  as  it  had  filled  up  our 
crosscuts.  From  Lovejoy's  barn  they  could  see 
that  the  track  was  now  perfectly  clear  for 
the  half  mile  where  it  crossed  the  Prescott 
meadows. 

I  am  sorry  to  have  been  so  long  in  describing 
thus  the  aspect  of  the  field  after  the  first  engage 
ment.  But  it  was  on  this  condition  of  affairs 
that,  after  full  conference,  the  enterprises  of 
the  night  were  determined.  Whatever  was 
to  be  done  was  to  be  done  by  men.  And  after 
thorough  regale  on  Mrs.  Lovejoy's  green  tea, 
and  continual  return  to  her  constant  relays  of 
thin  bacon  gilded  by  unnumbered  eggs;  after 
cutting  and  coming  again  upon  unnumbered 
mince-pies,  which,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  did  not  in 
any  point  compare  well  with  Huldah's,  —  each 
man  thrust  many  doughnuts  into  his  outside 
pockets,  drew  on  the  long  boots  again,  and  his 
buckskin  gloves  and  mittens,  and,  unencum 
bered  now  by  the  care  of  animals,  started  on 
the  work  of  the  evening.  The  sun  was  just 
taking  his  last  look  at  them  from  the  western 


DAILY   BREAD.  123 

nills,  where  Reuben  and  John  could  see  Hul- 
dah's  chimney  smoking.  The  plan  was,  by 
taking  a  double  hand-sled  of  Lovejoy's,  and  by 
knocking  together  two  or  three  more,  jumper- 
fashion,  to  work  their  way  across  the  meadow 
to  the  railroad  causeway,  and  establish  a  milk 
de"p6t  there,  where  the  line  was  not  half  a  mile 
from  Lovejoy's.  By  going  and  coming  often, 
following  certain  tracks  well  known  to  Lovejoy 
on  the  windward  side  of  walls  and  fences,  these 
eight  men  felt  quite  sure  that  by  midnight  they 
could  place  all  their  milk  at  the  spot  where  the 
old  farm  crossing  strikes  the  railroad.  Mean 
while,  Silas  Lovejoy,  a  boy  of  fourteen,  was  to 
put  on  a  pair  of  snow-shoes,  go  down  to  the  sta 
tion,  state  the  case  to  old  Dix,  and  get  from  him 
a  red  lantern  and  permission  to  stop  the  first 
train  where  it  swept  out  from  the  Pitman  cut 
upon  the  causeway.  Old  Dix  had  no  more 
right  to  give  this  permission  than  had  the  hum 
blest  street-sweeper  in  Ispahan,  and  this  they 
all  knew.  But  the  fact  that  Silas  had  asked 
for  it  would  show  a  willingness  on  their  part  to 
submit  to  authority,  if  authority  there  had  been. 
This  satisfied  the  New  England  love  of  law,  on 
the  one  hand.  On  the  other  hand,  the  train 


124  DAILY  BREAD. 

would  be  stopped,  and  this  satisfied  the  New 
England  determination  to  get  the  thing  done 
any  way.  To  give  additional  force  to  Silas, 
John  provided  him  with  a  note  to  Dix,  and  it 
was  generally  agreed  that  if  Dix  wasn't  ugly, 
he  would  give  the  red  lantern  and  the  permis 
sion.  Silas  was  then  to  work  up  the  road  and 
station  himself  as  far  beyond  the  curve  as  he 
could,  and  stop  the  first  down-train.  He  was 
to  tell  the  conductor  where  the  men  were  wait 
ing  with  the  milk,  was  to  come  down  to  them 
on  the  train,  and  his  duty  would  be  done.  Lest 
Dix  should  be  ugly,  Silas  was  provided  with 
Lovejoy's  only  lantern,  but  he  was  directed  not 
to  show  this  at  the  station  until  his  interview 
was  finished.  Silas  started  cheerfully  on  his 
snow-shoes ;  John  and  Lovejoy,  at  the  same 
time,  starting  with  the  first  hand-sled  of  the 
cans.  First  of  all  into  the  sled,  John  put  Hul- 
dah's  well-known  can,  a  little  shorter  than  the 
others,  and  with  a  different  handle.  "  What 
ever  else  went  to  Boston,"  he  said,  "  that  can 
was  bound  to  go  through." 

They  established  the  basis  of  their  pyramid, 
and  met  the  three  new  jumpers  with  their 
makers  as  they  went  back  for  more.  This  party 


DAII^Y  BEE  AD.  125 

enlarged  the  base  of  the  pyramid ;  and,  as  they 
worked,  Silas  passed  them  cheerfully  with  his 
red  lantern.  Old  Dix  had  not  been  ugly,  had 
given  the  lantern  and  all  the  permission  he  had 
to  give,  and  had  communicated  some  intelligence 
also.  The  intelligence  was,  that  an  accumulated 
force  of  seven  engines,  with  a  large  working 
party,  had  left  Groton  Junction  downward  at 
three.  Nothing  had  arrived  upward  at  Groton 
Junction ;  and,  from  Boston,  Dix  learned  that 
nothing  more  would  leave  there  till  early  morn 
ing.  No  trains  had  arrived  in  Boston  from  any 
quarter  for  twenty-four  hours.  So  long  the 
blockade  had  lasted  already. 

On  this  intelligence,  it  was  clear  that,  with 
good  luck,  the  down-train  might  reach  them  at 
any  moment.  Still  the  men  resolved  to  leave 
their  milk,  while  they  went  back  for  more,  rely 
ing  on  Silas  and  the  "  large  working  party  "  to 
put  it  on  the  cars,  if  the  train  chanced  to  pass 
before  any  of  them  returned.  So  back  they 
fared  to  Lovejoy's  for  their  next  relay,  and  met 
John  and  Reuben  working  in  successfully  with 
their  second.  But  no  one  need  have  hurried , 
for,  as  trip  after  trip  they  built  their  pyramid  of 
cans  higher  and  higher,  no  welcome  whistle 


126  DAILY  BKEAU. 

broke  the  stillness  of  the  night,  and  by  ten 
o'clock,  when  all  these  cans  were  in  place  by 
the  rail,  the  train  had  not  yet  come. 

John  and  Reuben  then  proposed  to  go  up  into 
the  cut,  and  to  relieve  poor  Silas,  who  had  not 
been  heard  from  since  he  swung  along  so  cheer 
fully  like  an  "  Excelsior  "  boy  on  his  way  up  the 
Alps.  But  they  had  hardly  started,  when  a 
horn  from  the  meadow  recalled  them,  and, 
retracing  their  way,  they  met  a  messenger  who 
had  come  in  to  say  that  a  fresh  team  from  the 
Four  Corners  had  been  reported  at  Lovejoy's, 
with  a  dozen  or  more  men,  who  had  succeeded 
in  bringing  down  nearly  as  far  as  Lovejoy's 
mowing-lot  near  a  hundred  more  cans ;  that  it 
was  quite  possible  in  two  or  three  hours  more  to 
bring  this  over  also,  —  and,  although  the  first 
train  was  probably  now  close  at  hand,  it  was 
clearly  worth  while  to  place  this  relief  in  read 
iness  for  a  second.  So  poor  Silas  was  left  for 
the  moment  to  his  loneliness,  and  Reuben  and 
John  returned  again  upon  their  steps.  They 
passed  the  house  where  they  found  Mrs.  Love- 
joy  and  Mrs.  Stacy  at  work  in  the  shed,  fin 
ishing  off  two  more  jumpers,  and  claiming 
congratulation  for  their  skill,  and  after  a  cup 


DAILY  BREAD.  127 

of  tea  again,  —  for  no  man  touched  spirit  that 
day  nor  that  night,  —  they  reported  at  the  new 
station  by  the  mowing-lot. 

And  Silas  Lovejoy  —  who  had  turned  the  cor 
ner  into  the  Pitman  cut,  and  so  shut  himself  out 
from  sight  of  the  station  light,  or  his  father's 
windows,  or  the  lanterns  of  the  party  at  the 
pyramid  of  cans  —  Silas  Lovejoy  held  his  watch 
there,  hour  by  hour,  with  such  courage  as  the 
sense  of  the  advance  gives  boy  or  man.  He  had 
not  neglected  to  take  the  indispensable  shovel 
as  he  came.  In  going  over  the  causeway  he  had 
slipped  off  the  snow-shoes  and  hung  them  on 
his  back.  Then  there  was  heavy  wading  as  he 
turned  into  the  Pitman  cut,  knee  deep,  middle 
deep,  and  he  laid  his  snow-shoes  on  the  snow  and 
set  the  red  lantern  on  them,  as  he  reconnoitred. 
Middle  deep,  neck  deep,  and  he  fell  forward  on 
his  face  into  the  yielding  mass.  "  This  will  not 
do,  I  must  not  fall  like  that  often,"  said  Silas 
to  himself,  as  he  gained  his  balance  and  threw 
himself  backward  against  the  mass.  Slowly  he 
turned  round,  worked  back  to  the  lantern, 
worked  out  to  the  causeway,  and  fastened  on 
the  shoes  again.  With  their  safer  help  he  easily 
skimmed  up  to  Pitman's  bridge,  which  he  had 


128  DALLY  BREAD. 

determined  on  for  his  station.  He  knew  that 
thence  his  lantern  could  be  seen  for  a  mile,  and 
that  yet  there  the  train  might  safely  be  stopped, 
so  near  was  the  open  causeway  which  he  had 
just  traversed.  He  had  no  fear  of  an  up-train 
behind  him. 

So  Silas  walked  back  and  forth,  and  sang,  and 
spouted  "  pieces,"  and  mused  on  the  future  of 
his  life,  and  spouted  "  pieces  "  again,  and  sang  in 
the  loneliness.  How  the  time  passed,  he  did 
not  know.  No  sound  of  clock,  no  baying  of 
dog,  no  plash  of  waterfall,  broke  that  utter  still 
ness.  The  wind,  thank  God,  had  at  last  died 
away ;  and  Silas  paced  his  beat  in  a  long  oval  he 
made  for  himself,  under  and  beyond  the  bridge, 
with  no  sound  but  his  own  voice  when  he  chose 
to  raise  it.  He  expected,  as  they  all  did,  that 
every  moment  the  whistle  of  the  train,  as  it 
swept  into  sight  a  mile  or  more  away,  would 
break  the  silence ;  so  he  paced,  and  shouted, 
and  sang. 

"This  is  a  man's  duty,"  he  said  to  himself: 
"  they  would  not  let  me  go  with  the  fifth  regi 
ment,  —  not  as  a  drummer  boy ;  but  this  is  duty 
such  as  no  drummer  boy  of  them  all  is  doing. 
Company,  march !  "  and  he  "  stepped  forward 


STATE  NORMAL  SCHOOL, 

Los  Aifgeles,  Cat 
DAILY  BEE  AD.  129 

smartly "  with  his  left  foot.  "  Really  I  ain 
placed  on  guard  here  quite  as  much  as  if  I  were 
on  picket  in  Virginia."  "Who  goes  there?" 
"  Advance,  friend,  and  give  the  countersign." 
Not  that  any  one  did  go  there,  or  could  go 
there ;  but  the  boy's  fancy  was  ready,  and  so  he 
amused  himself  during  the  first  hours.  Then 
he  began  to  wonder  whether  they  were  hours, 
as  they  seemed,  or  whether  this  was  all  a 
wretched  illusion,  —  that  the  time  passed  slowly 
to  him  because  he  was  nothing  but  a  boy,  and 
did  not  know  how  to  occupy  his  mind.  So  he 
resolutely  said  the  multiplication-table  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end,  and  from  the  end  to  the 
beginning,  —  first  to  himself,  ami  again  aloud,  to 
make  it  slower.  Then  he  tried  the  ten  com 
mandments.  "  Thou  shalt  have  none  other 
Gods  before  me : "  easy  to  say  that  beneath 
those  stars ;  and  he  said  them  again.  No,  it  is 
no  illusion.  I  must  have  been  here  hours  long  1 
Then  he  began  on  Milton's  hymn :  — 

"  It  was  the  winter  wild, 

Wliile  the  heaven-born  child, 
All  meanly  wrapt,  in  the  rude  manger  lies." 

"  Winter  wild,  indeed,"  said  Silas  aloud ;  and, 
if  he  had  only  known  it,  at  that  moment  the  sun 
9 


130  DAILY  BREAD. 

beneath  Ms  feet  was  crossing  the  meridian,  mid 
night  had  passed  already,  and  Christmas  day 
was  born ! 

"  Only  with  speeches  fair 
She  wooes  the  gentle  air 
To  hide  her  guilty  front  with  innocent  snow." 

"  Innocent,  indeed,"  said  poor  Silas,  still 
aloud,  "  much  did  he  know  of  innocent  snow  I" 
And  vainly  did  he  try  to  recall  the  other 
stanzas,  as  he  paced  back  and  forth,  round  and 
round,  and  began  now  to  wonder  where  his 
father  and  the  others  were,  and  if  tljey  could 
have  come  to  any  misfortune.  Surely,  they 
could  not  have  forgotten  that  he  was  here. 
Would  that  train  never  corne  ? 

If  he  were  not  afraid  of  its  coming  at  once, 
lie  would  have  run  back  to  the  causeway  to 
look  for  their  lights,  —  and  perhaps  they  had  a 
fire.  Why  had  he  not  brought  an  axe  for  a  fire  ? 
"  That  rail  fence  above  would  have  served  per 
fectly,  —  nay,  it  is  not  five  rods  to  a  load  of 
hickory  we  left  the  day  before  Thanksgiving. 
Surely  one  of  them  might  come  up  to  me  with 
an  axe.  But  maybe  there  is  trouble  below. 
They  might  have  come  with  an  axe  —  with  an 
axe — with  an  axe  —  with  an  —  axe" —  "I 


DAILY  BREAD.  131 

ain  going  to  sleep,"  cried  Silas,  —  aloud  again 
this  time,  —  as  his  head  dropped  heavily  on  the 
handle  of  the  shovel  he  was  resting  on  there 
in  the  lee  of  the  stone  wall.  "  I  am  going  to 
sleep,  —  that  will  never  do.  Sentinel  asleep  at 
his  post.  Order  out  the  relief.  Blind  his  eyes. 
Kneel,  sir.  Make  ready.  Fire.  That,  sir,  for 
sentinels  asleep."  And  so  Silas  laughed  grimly, 
and  began  his  march  again.  Then  he  took 
his  shovel  and  began  a  great  pit  where  he  sup 
posed  the  track  might  be  beneath  him.  "  Any 
thing  to  keep  warm  and  to  keep  awake.  But 
why  did  they  not  send  up  to  him  ?  Why  was 
he  here  ?  Why  was  he  all  alone  ?  He  who  had 
never  been  alone  before.  Was  he  alone  ?  Was 
there  companionship  in  the  stars,  —  or  in  the 
good  God  who  held  the  stars  ?  Did  the  good 
God  put  me  here  ?  If  he  put  me  here,  will  he 
keep  me  here  ?  Or  did  he  put  me  here  to  die  ! 
To  die  in  this  cold  ?  It  is  cold,  —  it  is  very  cold ! 
Is  there  any  good  in  my  dying  ?  The  train  will 
run  down,  and  they  will  see  a  dead  body  lying 
under  the  bridge,  —  black  on  the  snow,  with  a 
red  lantern  by  it.  Then  they  will  stop.  Shall 
I  — I  will  —  just  go  back  to  see  if  the  lights  are 
at  the  bend.  I  will  leave  the  lantern  here  on 


132  DAILY  BREAD. 

the  edge  of  this  wall !  "  And  so  Silas  turned, 
half  benumbed,  worked  his  way  nearly  out  of 
the  gorge,  and  started  as  he  heard,  or  thought 
he  heard,  a  baby's  scream.  "  A  thousand  babies 
are  starving,  and  I  am  afraid  to  stay  here  to 
give  them  their  life,"  he  said.  "  There  is  a  boy 
fit  for  a  soldier !  Order  out  the  relief !  Drum 
head  court-martial !  Prisoner,  hear  your  sen 
tence!  Deserter,  to  be  shot!  Blindfold, — 
kneel,  sir  !  Fire  !  Good  enough  for  deserters  ! " 
And  so  poor  Silas  worked  back  again  to  the 
lantern. 

And  now  he  saw  and  felt  sure  that  Orion  was 
bending  downward,  and  he  knew  that  the  night 
must  be  broken;  and,  with  some  new  hope, 
throwing  down  the  shovel  with  which  he  had 
been  working,  he  began  his  soldier  tramp  once 
more,  —  as  far  as  soldier  tramp  was  possible  with 
those  trailing  snow-shoes,  —  tried  again  on  "No 
war  nor  battle  sound,"  broke  down  on  "  Cyn 
thia's  seat "  and  the  "  music  of  the  spheres ; "  but 
at  last,  —  working  on  "beams,"  "long  beams," 
and  "that  with  long  beams," — he  caught  the 
stanzas  he  was  feeling  for,  and  broke  out  exult 
ant  with,  — 


DAILY  BREAD.  133 

"  At  last  surrounds  their  sight, 

A  globe  of  circular  light 
That  with  long  beams  the  shame-faced  night  arrayed; 

The  helmed  cherubim 

And  sworded  seraphim 
Are  seen  in  glittering  ranks  —  " 

"Globe  of  circular  light  —  am  I  dreaming,  or 
have  they  come !  "  — 

Come  they  had !  The  globe  of  circular  light 
swept  full  over  the  valley,  and  the  scream  of  the 
engine  was  welcomed  by  the  freezing  boy  as  if 
it  had  been  an  angel's  whisper  to  him.  Not 
unprepared  did  it  find  him.  The  red  lantern 
swung  to  and  fro  in  a  well-practised  hand,  and 
he  was  in  waiting  on  his  firmest  spot  as  the 
train  slowed  and  the  engine  passed  him. 

"Do  not  stop  for  me,"  he  cried,  as  he  threw 
his  weight  heavily  on  the  tender  side,  and  the 
workmen  dragged  him  in.  "  Only  run  slow  till 
you  are  out  of  the  ledge  :  we  have  made  a  milk 
station  at  the  cross-road." 

"  Good  for  you !  "  said  the  wondering  fireman, 
who  in  a  moment  understood  the  exigency.  The 
heavy  plough  threw  out  the  snow  steadily  still, 
in  ten  seconds  they  were  clear  of  the  ledge,  and 
saw  the  fire-light  shimmering  on  the  great  pyra 
mids  of  milk-cans.  Slower  and  slower  ran  the 


134  DAILY  BREAD. 

train,  and  by  the  blazing  fire  stopped,  for  once, 
because  its  masters  chose  to  stop.  And  the 
working  party  on  the  train  cheered  lustily  as 
they  tumbled  out  of  the  cars,  as  they  appre 
hended  the  situation,  and  were  cheered  by  the 
working  party  from  the  village. 

Two  or  three  cans  of  milk  stood  on  the  embers 
of  the  fire,  that  they  might  be  ready  for  the  men 
on  the  train  with  something  that  was  at  least 
warm.  An  empty  passenger  car  was  opened  and 
the  pyramids  of  milk-cans  were  hurried  into  it,  — 
forty  men  now  assisting. 

"  You  will  find  Joe  Winter  at  the  Boston  sta 
tion,"  said  John  Stevens  to  the  '•'gentlemanly 
conductor  "  of  the  express,  whose  lightning  train 
had  thus  become  a  milk  convoy.  "  Tell  Winter 
to  distribute  this  among  all  the  carts,  that  every 
body  may  have  some.  Good  luck  to  you.  Good- 
by !  "  And  the  engines  snorted  again,  and  John 
Stevens  turned  back,  not  so  much  as  thinking 
that  he  had  made  his  Christmas  present  to  a 
starving  town. 


DAILY   BREAD.  135 

y. 

CHRISTMAS  MORNING. 

THE  children  were  around  Robert  Walter's 
knees,  and  each  of  the  two  spelled  out  a  verse 
of  the  second  chapter  of  Luke,  on  Christmas 
morning.  And  Robert  and  Mary  kneeled  with 
them,  and  they  said  together,  "  Our  Father  who 
art  in  heaven."  Mary's  voice  broke  a  little 
when  they  came  to  "  daily  bread,"  but  with  the 
two,  and  her  husband,  she  continued  to  the  end, 
and  could  say  "  thine  is  the  power,"  and  believe 
it  too. 

"  Mamma,"  whispered  little  Fanny,  as  she 
kissed  her  mother  after  the  prayer,  "  when  I  said 
my  prayer  up  stairs  last  night,  I  said  '  our  daily 
milk,'  and  so  did  Robert."  This  was  more  than 
poor  Mary  could  bear.  She  kissed  the  child, 
and  she  hurried  away. 

For  last  night  at  six  o'clock  it  was  clear  that 
the  milk  was  sour,  and  little  Jamie  had  detected 
it  first  of  all.  Then,  with  every  one  of  the  old 
wiles,  they  had  gone  back  over  the  old  slops ; 
but  the  child,  with  that  old  weird  strength,  had 
pushed  them  all  away.  Christmas  morning 


136  DAILY  BREAD. 

broke,  and  poor  Robert,  as  soon  as  light  would 
serve,  had  gone  to  the  neighbors  all,  —  their 
nearest  intimates  they  had  tried  the  night  before, 
—  and  from  all  had  brought  back  the  same 
reply ;  one  friend  had  sent  a  wretched  sample, 
but  the  boy  detected  the  taint  and  pushed  it, 
untasted,  away.  Dr.  Morton  had  the  alarm  the 
day  before.  He  was  at  the  house  earlier  than 
usual  with  some  condensed  milk,  which  his 
wife's  stores  had  furnished ;  but  that  would  not 
answer.  Poor  Jamie  pushed  this  by.  There 
was  some  smoke  or  something,  —  who  should  say 
what?  —  it  would  not  do.  The  doctor  could 
see  in  an  instant  how  his  patient  had  fallen 
back  in  the  night.  That  weird,  anxious,  en 
treating  look,  as  his  head  lay  back  on  the  little 
pillow,  had  all  come  back  again.  Robert  and 
Robert's  friends,  Gaisford  and  Warren,  had  gone 
down  to  the  Old  Colony,  to  the  Worcester,  and 
to  the  Hartford  stations.  Perhaps  their  trains 
were  doing  better.  The  door-bell  rang  yet 
again.  "  Mrs.  Appleton's  love  to  Mrs.  Walter, 
and  perhaps  her  child  will  try  some  fresh  beef- 
tea."  As  if  poor  Jamie  did  not  hate  beef-tea; 
still  Morton  resolutely  forced  three  spoonfuls 
down.  Half  an  hour  more  and  Mrs.  Dudley's 


DAILY  BREAD.  137 

compliments.  "  Mrs.  Dudley  heard  that  Mrs. 
Walter  was  out  of  milk,  and  took  the  liberty  to 
send  round  some  very  particularly  nice  Scotch 
groats,  which  her  brother  had  just  brought  from 
Edinburgh."  "  Do  your  best  with  it,  Fanny," 
said  poor  Mary,  but  she  knew  that  if  Jamie  took 
those  Scotch  groats  it  was  only  because  they 
were  a  Christmas  present.  Half  an  hour  more  ! 
Three  more  spoonfuls  of  beef-tea  after  a  fight. 
Door-bell  again.  Carriage  at  the  door.  "  Would 
Mrs.  Walter  come  down  and  see  Mrs.  Fitch  ? 
It  was  really  very  particular."  Mary  was  half 
dazed,  and  went  down,  she  did  not  know  why. 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Walter,  you  do  not  remember 
me,"  said  this  eager  girl,  crossing  the  room  and 
taking  her  by  both  hands. 

"  Why,  no  —  yes  —  do  I  ?  "  said  Mary,  crying 
and  laughing  together. 

"  Yes,  you  will  remember,  it  was  at  church, 
at  the  baptism.  My  Jennie  and  your  Jamie 
were  christened  the  same  day.  And  now  I 
hear,  —  we  all  know  how  low  he  is,  —  and  per 
haps  he  will  share  my  Jennie's  breakfast.  Dear 
Mrs.  Walter,  do  let  me  try." 

Then  Mary  saw  that  the  little  woman's  cloak 
and  hat  were  already  thrown  off,  —  which  had 


138  DAILY  BREAD. 

not  seemed  strange  to  her  before,  —  and  the  two 
passed  quietly  up  stairs  together;  and  Julia 
Fitch  bent  gently  over  him,  and  cooed  to  him, 
and  smiled  to  him,  but  could  not  make  the  poor 
child  smile.  And  they  lifted  him  so  gently  on 
the  pillow,  —  but  only  to  hear  him  scream.  And 
she  brought  his  head  gently  to  her  heart,  and 
drew  back  the  little  curtain  that  was  left, 
and  offered  to  him  her  life  ;  but  he  was  fright 
ened,  and  did  not  know  her,  and  had  forgotten 
what  it  was  she  gave  him,  and  screamed  again  ; 
and  so  they  had  to  lay  him  back  gently  upon 
the  pillow.  And  then,  —  as  Julia  was  saying 
she  would  stay,  and  how  they  could  try  again, 
and  could  do  this  and  that,  —  then  the  door 
bell  rang  again,  and  Mrs.  Coleman  had  herself 
come  round  with  a  little  white  pitcher,  and  her 
self  ran  up  stairs  with  it,  and  herself  knocked  at 
the  door ! 

The  blockade  was  broken,  and 

THE  MILK  HAD   COME  ! 


Mary  never  knew  that  it  was  from  Huldah 
Stevens's  milk-can  that  her  boy  drank  in  the  first 
drop  of  his  new  life.  Nor  did  Huldah  know  it. 


DAILY  BBEAD.  139 

Nor  did  John  know  it,  nor  the  paladins  who 
fought  that  day  at  his  side.  Nor  did  Silas  Love- 
joy  know  it. 

But  the  good  God  and  all  good  angels  knew 
it.  Why  ask  for  more  ? 

And  you  and  I,  dear  reader,  if  we  can  forget 
that  always  our  daily  bread  comes  to  us,  because 
a  thousand  brave  men  and  a  thousand  brave 
women  are  at  work  in  the  world,  praying  to  God 
and  trying  to  serve  him,  we  will  not  forget  it 
as  we  meet  at  breakfast  on  this  blessed  Christ 
mas  day  1 


CHEISTMAS  EVE. 

"  nrilEY  'VE  come  !  they  Ve  come  !  " 

This  was  the  cry  of  little  Herbert  as 
he  ran  in  from  the  square  stone  which  made  the 
large  doorstep  of  the  house.  Here  he  had  been 
watching,  a  self-posted  sentinel,  for  the  moment 
when  the  carriage  should  turn  the  corner  at  the 
bottom  of  the  hill. 

"  They  've  come !  they  've  come  !  "  echoed 
joyfully  through  the  house ;  and  the  cry  pene 
trated  out  into  the  extension,  or  ell,  in  which 
the  grown  members  of  the  family  were,  in  the 
kitchen,  "  getting  tea "  by  some  formulas  more 
solemn  than  ordinary. 

"  Have  they  come  ?  "  cried  Grace  ;  and  she 
set  her  skillet  back  to  the  quarter-deck,  or  after- 
part  of  the  stove,  lest  its  white  contents  should 


STAND   AND   WAIT.  141 

burn  while  she  was  away.  She  threw  a  waiting 
handkerchief  over  her  shoulders,  and  ran  with 
the  others  to  the  front  door,  to  wave  something 
white,  and  to  be  in  at  the  first  welcome. 

Young  and  old  were  gathered  there  in  that 
hospitable  open  space  where  the  side  road  swept 
up  to  the  barn  on  its  way  from  the  main  road. 
The  bigger  boys  of  the  home  party  had  scattered 
half-way  down  the  hill  by  this  time.  Even 
grandmamma  had  stepped  down  from  the  stone, 
and  walked  half-way  to  the  roadway.  Every 
one  was  waving  something.  Those  who  had  no 
handkerchiefs  had  hats  or  towels  to  wave ;  and 
the  more  advanced  boys  began  an  undefined  or 
irregular  cheer. 

But  the  carryall  advanced  slowly  up  the  hill, 
with  no  answering  handkerchief,  and  no  bon 
neted  head  stretched  out  from  the  side.  And, 
as  it  neared  Sam  and  Andrew,  their  enthusiasm 
could  be  seen  to  droop,  and  George  and  Herbert 
stopped  then-  cheers  as  it  came  up  to  them  ;  and 
before  it  was  near  the  house,  on  its  grieved  way 
up  the  hill,  the  bad  news  had  come  up  before  it, 
as  bad  news  will,  —  "  She  has  not  come,  after 
all." 

It  was  Huldah  Root,  Grace's  older  sister,  who 


142  STAND   AND   WAIT. 

had  not  come.  John  Root,  their  father,  had 
himself  driven  down  to  the  station  to  meet  her ; 
and  Abner,  her  oldest  brother,  had  gone  with 
him.  It  was  two  years  since  she  had  been  at 
home,  and  the  whole  family  was  on  tiptoe  to 
welcome  her.  Hence  the  unusual  tea  prepara 
tion  ;  hence  the  sentinel  on  the  doorstep ;  hence 
the  general  assembly  in  the  yard  ;  and,  after  all, 
she  had  not  come  !  It  was  a  wretched  disap 
pointment.  Her  mother  had  that  heavy,  silent 
look,  which  children  take  as  the  heaviest  afflic 
tion  of  all,  when  they  see  it  in  their  mother's 
faces.  John  Root  himself  led  the  horse  into 
the  barn,  as  if  he  did  not  care  now  for  anything 
which  might  happen  in  heaven  above  or  in  earth 
beneath.  The  boys  were  voluble  in  their  rage  : 
"  It  is  too  bad !  "  and,  "  Grandmamma,  don't 
you  think  it  is  too  bad  ?  "  and,  "  It  is  the  mean 
est  thing  I  ever  heard  of  in  all  my  life  !  "  and, 
"  Grace,  why  don't  you  say  anything  ?  did  you 
ever  know  anything  so  mean  ?  "  As  for  poor 
Grace  herself,  she  was  quite  beyond  saying  any 
thing.  All  the  treasured  words  she  had  laid  up 
to  say  to  Huldah ;  all  the  doubts  and  hopes  and 
guesses,  which  were  secret  to  all  but  God,  but 
which  were  to  be  poured  out  in  Huldah's  ear  as 


STAND   AND   WAIT.  143 

soon  as  they  were  alone,  were  coming  up  one 
by  one,  as  if  to  choke  her.  She  had  waited  so 
long  for  this  blessed  fortnight  of  sympathy,  and 
now  she  had  lost  it.  Grace  could  say  nothing. 
And  poor  grandmamma,  on  whom  fell  the  still 
ing  of  the  boys,  was  at  heart  as  wretched  as  any 
of  them. 

Somehow,  something  got  itself  put  on  the 
supper-table  ;  and,  when  John  Root  and  Abner 
came  in  from  the  barn,  they  all  sat  down  to 
pretend  to  eat  something.  What  a  miserable 
contrast  to  the  Christmas  eve  party  which  had 
been  expected! 

The  observance  of  Christmas  is  quite  a  novelty 
in  the  heart  of  New  England  among  the  lords 
of  the  manor.  Winslow  and  Brewster,  above 
Plymouth  Rock,  celebrated  their  first  Christmas 
by  making  all  hands  work  all  day  in  the  raising 
of  their  first  house.  It  was  in  that  way  that  a 
Christian  empire  was  begun.  They  builded 
better  than  they  knew.  They  and  theirs,  in 
that  hard  day's  work,  struck  the  key-note  for 
New  England  for  two  centuries  and  a  half.  And 
many  and  many  a  New  Englander,  still  in 
middle  life,  remembers  that  in  childhood,  though 
nurtured  in  Christian  homes,  he  could  not  have 


144  STAND   AND   WAIT. 

told,  if  he  were  asked,  on  what  day  of  the  year 
Christmas  fell.  But  as  New  England,  in  the 
advance  of  the  world,  has  come  into  the  general 
life  of  the  world,  she  has  shown  no  inaptitude 
for  the  greater  enjoyments  of  life ;  and,  with  the 
true  catholicity  of  her  great  Congregational  sys 
tem,  her  people  and  her  churches  seize,  one 
after  another,  all  the  noble  traditions  of  the 
loftiest  memories.  And  so  in  this  matter  we 
have  in  hand ;  it  happened  that  the  Roots,  in 
their  hillside  home,  had  determined  that  they 
would  celebrate  Christmas,  as  never  had  Roots 
done  before  since  Josiah  Root  landed  at  Salem, 
from  the  "  Hercules,"  with  other  Kentish  peo 
ple,  in  1635.  Abner  and  Gershom  had  cut  and 
trimmed  a  pretty  fir-balsam  from  the  edge  of  the 
Hotchkiss  clearing ;  and  it  was  now  in  the  best 
parlor.  Grace,  with  Mary  Bickford,  her  firm 
ally  and  other  self,  had  gilded  nuts,  and  rubbed 
lady  apples,  and  strung  popped  corn ;  and  the 
tree  had  been  dressed  in  secret,  the  youngsters 
all  locked  and  warned  out  from  the  room.  The 
choicest  turkeys  of  the  drove,  and  the  tenderest 
geese  from  the  herd,  and  the  plumpest  fowls 
from  the  barnyard,  had  been  sacrificed  on  conse 
crated  altars.  And  all  this  was  but  as  accom- 


STAND   AND   WAIT.  .   145 

paniment  and  side  illustration  of  the  great  glory 
of  the  celebration,  which  was,  that  Huldah, 
after  her  two  years'  absence,  —  Huldah  was  to 
come  home. 

And  now  she  had  not  come,  —  nay,  was  not 
coming ! 

As  they  sat  down  at  their  Barmecide  feast, 
how  wretched  the  assemblage  of  unrivalled 
dainties  seemed !  John  Root  handed  to  his 
wife  their  daughter's  letter ;  she  read  it,  and 
gave  it  to  Grace,  who  read  it,  and  gave  it  to  her 
grandmother.  No  one  read  it  aloud.  To  read 
aloud  in  such  trials  is  not  the  custom  of  New 
England. 

Boston,  Dec.  24,  1848. 

DEAR  FATHER  AND  MOTHER,  —  It  is  dreadful 
to  disappoint  you  all,  but  I  cannot  come.  I 
am  all  ready,  and  this  goes  by  the  carriage  that 
was  to  take  me  to  the  cars.  But  our  dear  little 
Horace  has  just  been  brought  home,  I  am  afraid, 
dying ;  but  we  cannot  tell,  and  I  cannot  leave 
him.  You  know  there  is  really  no  one  who  can 
do  what  I  can.  He  was  riding  on  his  pony. 
First  the  pony  came  home  alone ;  and,  in  five 
minutes  after,  two  policemen  brought  the  dear 
child  in  a  carriage.  His  poor  mother  is  very 
10 


146  STAND   AND   WAIT. 

calm,  but  cannot  think  yet,  or  do  anything. 
We  have  sent  for  his  father,  who  is  down  town. 
I  try  to  hope  that  he  may  come  to  himself ;  but 
he  only  lies  and  draws  long  breaths  on  his  little 
bed.  The  doctors  are  with  him  now ;  and  I 
write  this  little  scrawl  to  say  how  dreadfully 
sorry  I  am.  A  merry  Christmas  to  you  all.  Do 
not  be  troubled  about  me. 

Your  own  loving 

HTJLDAH. 

P.S.  I  have  got  some  little  presents  for  the 
children ;  but  they  are  all  in  my  trunk,  and  I 
cannot  get  them  out  now.  I  will  make  a  bundle 
Monday.  Good-by.  The  man  is  waiting. 

This  was  the  letter  that  was  passed  from 
hand  to  hand,  of  which  the  contents  slowly 
trickled  into  the  comprehension  of  all  parties, 
according  as  their  several  ages  permitted  them 
to  comprehend.  Sam,  as  usual,  broke  the  silence 
by  saying,  — 

"  It  is  a  perfect  shame !  She  might  as  well 
be  a  nigger  slave !  I  suppose  they  think  they 
have  bought  her  and  sold  her.  I  should  like 
to  see  'em  all,  just  for  once,  and  tell  'em  that 


STAND   AND   WAIT.  147 

her  flesh  and  blood  is  as  good  as  theirs  ;  and 
that,  with  all  their  airs  and  their  money,  they  've 
no  business  to  "  — 

"  Sam,"  said  poor  Grace,  "  you  shall  not  say  . 
such  things.      Huldah  has  stayed  because  she 
chose  to  stay ;  and  that  is  the  worst  of  it.     She 
will  not  think  of  herself,  not  for  one  minute ; 
and  so  —  everything  happens." 

And  Grace  was  sobbing  beyond  speech  again ; 
and  her  intervention  amounted,  therefore,  to 
little  or  nothing.  The  boys,  through  the  even 
ing,  descanted  among  themselves  on  the  outrage. 
Grandmamma,  and  at  last  their  mother,  took 
successive  turns  in  taming  their  indignation ; 
but,  for  all  this,  it  was  a  miserable  evening. 
As  for  John  Root,  he  took  a  lamp  in  one  hand, 
and  "The  Weekly  Tribune "4 in  the  other,  and 
sat  before  the  fire,  and  pretended  to  read ;  but 
not  once  did  John  Root  change  the  fold  of  the 
paper  that  evening.  It  was  a  wretched  Christ 
mas  eve  ;  and,  at  half-past  eight,  every  light 
was  out,  and  every  member  of  the  household 
was  lying  stark  awake,  in  bed. 

Huldah  Root,  you  see,  was  a  servant  with 
the  Bartletts,  in  Boston.  When  she  was  only 


148  STAND   AND   WAIT. 

sixteen,  she  was  engaged  at  her  "  trade,"  as  a 
vest-maker,  in  that  town  ;  and,  by  some  chance, 
made  an  appointment  to  sew  as  a  seamstress  at 
Mrs.  Bartlett's  for  a  fortnight.  There  were  any 
number  of  children  to  be  clothed  there ;  and 
the  fortnight  extended  to  a  month.  Then  the 
month  became  two  months.  She  grew  fond  of 
Mrs.  Bartlett,  because  Mrs.  Bartlett  grew  fond 
of  her.  The  children  adored  her ;  and  she  kept 
an  eye  to  them  ;  and  it  ended  in  her  engaging 
to  spend  the  winter  there,  half-seamstress,  half- 
nurse,  half-nursery-governess,  and  a  little  of 
everything.  From  such  a  beginning,  it  had 
happened  that  she  had  lived  there  six  years,  in 
confidential  service.  She  could  cook  better  than 
anybody  in  the  house,  —  better  than  Mrs.  Bart 
lett  herself ;  but  it  was  not  often  that  she  tried 
her  talent  there.  On  a  birthday  perhaps,  in 
August,  she  would  make  huckleberry  cakes,  by 
the  old  homestead  "  receipt,"  for  the  children. 
She  had  the  run  of  all  their  clothes  as  nobody 
else  did ;  took  the  younger  ones  to  be  measured ; 
and  saw  that  none  of  the  older  ones  went  out 
with  a  crack  in  a  seam,  or  a  rough  edge  at  the 
foot  of  a  trowser.  It  was  whispered  that  Minnie 
had  rather  go  into  the  sewing-room  to  get  Hul- 


STAND   AND   WAIT.  149 

dah  to  "  show  her "  about  "  alligation "  or 
"  square-root,"  than  to  wait  for  Miss  Thurber's 
explanations  in  the  morning.  In  fifty  such 
ways,  it  happened  that  Huldah — who,  on  the 
roll-call  of  the  census-man,  probably  rated  as  a 
nursery-maid  in  the  house — was  the  confiden 
tial  friend  of  every  member  of  the  family,  from 
Mr.  Bartlett,  who  wanted  to  know  where  "  The 
Intelligencer  "  was,  down  to  the  chore-boy  who 
came  in  to  black  the  shoes.  And  so  it  was,  that, 
when  poor  little  Horace  was  brought  in  with  his 
skull  knocked  in  by  the  pony,  Huldah  was  — 
and  modestly  knew  that  she  was  —  the  most 
essential  person  in  the  stunned  family  circle. 

While  her  brothers  and  sisters  were  putting 
out  their  lights  at  New  Durham,  heart-sick  and 
wounded,  Huldah  was  sitting  in  that  still  room, 
where  only  the  rough  broken  breathing  of  poor 
Horace  broke  the  sound.  She  was  changing, 
once  in  ten  minutes,  the  ice-water  cloths ;  was 
feeling  of  his  feet  sometimes  ;  wetting  his  tongue 
once  or  twice  in  an  hour  ;  putting  her  finger  to 
his .  pulse  with  a  native  sense,  which  needed  no 
second-hand  to  help  it ;  and  all  the  time,  with 
the  thought  of  him,  was  remembering  how 
grieved  and  hurt  and  heart-broken  they  were 


150  STAND   AND   WAIT. 

at  home.  Every  half-hour  or  less,  a  pale  face 
appeared  at  the  door  ;  and  Huldah  just  slid 
across  the  room,  and  said,  "  He  is  really  doing 
nicely,  pray  lie  down ;  "  or,  "  His  pulse  is  surely 
better,  I  will  certainly  come  to  you  if  it  flags ;  " 
or  "  Pray  trust  me,  I  will  not  let  you  wait  a 
moment  if  he  needs  you ;  "  or,  "  Pray  get  ready 
for  to-morrow.  An  hour's  sleep  now  will  be 
worth  everything  to  you  then."  And  the  poor 
mother  would  crawl  back  to  her  baby  and  her 
bed,  and  pretend  to  try  to  sleep  ;  and  in  half 
an  hour  would  appear  again  at  the  door.  One 
o'clock,  two  o'clock,  three  o'clock.  How  com 
panionable  Dr.  Lowell's  clock  seems  when  one 
is  sitting  up  so,  with  no  one  else  to  talk  to  I 
Four  o'clock  at  last ;  it  is  really  growing  to  be 
quite  intimate.  Five  o'clock.  "  If  I  were  in 
dear  Durham  now,  one  of  the  roosters  would 
be  calling,"  —  Six  o'clock.  Poor  Horace  stirs, 
turns,  flings  his  arm  over.  "  Mother  —  O  Hul 
dah  !  is  it  you  ?  How  nice  that  is !  "  And  he 
is  unconscious  again ;  but  he  had  had  sense 
enough  to  know  her.  What  a  blessed  Christ 
mas  present  that  is,  to  tell  that  to  his  poor 
mother  when  she  slides  in  at  daybreak,  and 
says,  "You  shall  go  to  bed  now,  dear  child. 


STAND   AND   WAIT.  151 

You  see  I  am  very  fresh ;   and  you  must  rest 
yourself,   you  know.      Do   you  really  say  he 
knew  you  ?    Are  you  sure  he  knew  you  ?    Why, 
Huldah,  what  an  angel  of  peace  you  are !  " 
So  opened  Huldah 's  Christmas  morning. 

Days  of  doubt,  nights  of  watching.  Every 
now  and  then  the  boy  knows  his  mother,  his 
father,  or  Huldah.  Then  will  come  this  heavy 
stupor  which  is  so  different  from  sleep.  At  last 
the  surgeons  have  determined  that  a  piece  of 
the  bone  must  come  away.  There  is  the  quiet 
gathering  of  the  most  skilful  at  the  determined 
hour ;  there  is  the  firm  table  for  the  little  fellow 
to  lie  on ;  here  is  the  ether  and  the  sponge ; 
and,  of  course,  here  and  there,  and  everywhere, 
is  Huldah.  She  can  hold  the  sponge,  or  she 
can  fetch  and  carry ;  she  can  answer  at  once  if 
she  is  spoken  to  ;  she  can  wait,  if  it  is  waiting ; 
she  can  act,  if  it  is  acting.  At  last  the  wretched 
little  button,  which  has  been  pressing  on  our 
poor  boy's  brain,  is  lifted  safely  out.  It  is  in 
Morton's  hand ;  he  smiles  and  nods  at  Huldah 
as  she  looks  inquiry,  and  she  knows  he  is 
satisfied.  And  does  not  the  poor  child  him 
self,  even  in  his  unconscious  sleep,  draw  his 


152  STAND   AND   WAIT. 

breath  more  lightly  than  he  did  before  ?  All  is 
well. 

"  "Who  do  you  say  that  young  woman  is?" 
says  Dr.  Morton  to  Mr.  Bartlett,  as  he  draws 
on  his  coat  in  the  doorway  after  all  is  over. 
"  Could  we  not  tempt  her  over  to  the  General 
Hospital  ?  " 

"  No,  I  think  not.  I  do  not  think  we  can 
spare  her." 

The  boy  Horace  is  new-born  that  day;  a 
New  Year's  gift  to  his  mother.  So  pass  Hul- 
dah's  holidays. 

n. 

CHKISTMAS  AGAIN. 

FOURTEEN  years  make  of  the  boy  whose 
pony  has  been  too  much  for  him  a  man  equal 
to  any  prank  of  any  pony.  Fourteen  years 
will  do  this,  even  to  boys  of  ten.  Horace 
Bartlett  is  the  colonel  of  a  cavalry  regiment, 
stationed  just  now  in  West  Virginia  ;  and,  as  it 
happens,  this  twenty-four-year-old  boy  has  an 
older  commission  than  anybody  in  that  region, 
and  is  the  Post  Commander  at  Talbot  C.  H., 
and  will  be,  most  likely,  for  the  winter.  The 


STAND   AND   WAIT.  153 

boy  has  a  vein  of  foresight  in  him ;  a  good  deal 
of  system ;  and,  what  is  worth  while  to  have  by 
the  side  of  system,  some  knack  of  order.  So 
soon  as  he  finds  that  he  is  responsible,  he  begins 
to  prepare  for  responsibility.  His  staff-officers 
are  boys  too ;  but  they  are  all  friends,  and  all 
mean  to  do  their  best.  His  Surgeon-in-Charge 
took  his  degree  at  Washington  last  spring  ;  that 
is  encouraging.  Perhaps,  if  he  has  not  much 
experience,  he  has,  at  least,  the  latest  advices. 
His  head  is  level  too ;  he  means  to  do  his  best, 
such  as  it  is ;  and,  indeed,  all  hands  in  that  knot 
of  boy  counsellors  will  not  fail  for  laziness  or 
carelessness.  Their  very  youth  makes  them 
provident  and  grave. 

So  among  a  hundred  other  letters,  as  October 
opens,  Horace  writes  this :  — 

TALBOT  COURT  HOUSE,  VA., 
Oct.  3, 1863. 

DEAR  HTJLDAH,  —  Here  we  are  still,  as  I 
have  been  explaining  to  father ;  and,  as  you  will 
see  by  my  letter  to  him,  here  we  are  like  to  stay. 
Thus  far  we  are  doing  sufficiently  well.  As  I 
have  told  him,  if  my  plans  had  been  adopted  we 
should  have  boen  pushed  rapidly  forward  up  the 


154  STAND   AND   WAIT. 

valley  of  the  Yellow  Creek;  Badger's  corps 
would  have  been  withdrawn  from  before  Win 
chester  ;  Wilcox  and  Steele  together  would  have 
threatened  Early ;  and  then,  by  a  rapid  flank 
movement,  we  should  have  pounced  down  on 
Longstreet  (not  the  great  Longstreet,  but  little 
Longstreet),  and  compelled  him  to  uncover 
Lynchburg ;  we  could  have  blown  up  the  dams 
and  locks  on  the  canal,  made  a  freshet  to  sweep 
all  the  obstructions  out  of  James  Eiver,  and 
then,  if  they  had  shown  half  as  much  spirit  on 
the  Potomac,  all  of  us  would  be  in  Richmond 
for  our  Christmas  dinner.  But  my  plans,  as 
usual,  were  not  asked  for,  far  less  taken.  So,  as 
T  said,  here  we  are. 

Well,  I  have  been  talking  with  Lawrence 
Worster,  my  Surgeon-in-Charge,  who  is  a  very 
good  fellow.  His  sick-list  is  not  bad  now,  and 
he  does  not  mean  to  have  it  bad ;  but  he  says 
that  he  is  not  pleased  with  the  ways  of  "his  ward- 
masters  ;  and  it  was  his  suggestion,  not  mine, 
mark  you,  that  I  should  see  if  one  or  two  of  the 
Sanitary  women  would  not  come  as  far  as  this 
to  make  things  decent.  So,  of  course,  I  write 
to  you.  Don't  you  think  mother  could  spare 
you  to  spend  the  winter  here  ?  It  will  be  rough, 


STAND  AND   WAIT.  155 

of  course  ;  but  it  is  all  in  the  good  cause.  Per 
haps  you  know  some  nice  women,  —  well,  not 
like  you,  of  course  ;  but  still,  disinterested  and 
sensible,  who  would  come  too.  Think  of  this 
carefully,  I  beg  you,  and  talk  to  father  and 
mother.  Worster  says  we  may  have  three  hun 
dred  boys  in  hospital  before  Christmas.  If 
Jubal  Early  should  come  this  way,  I  don't  know 
how  many  more.  Talk  with  mother  and  father. 
Always  yours, 

HOKACE  BARTLETT. 

P.  S.  I  have  shown  Worster  what  I  nave 
written;  he  encloses  a  sort  of  official  letter 
which  may  be  of  use.  He  says,  "  Show  this  to 
Dr.  Hayward ;  get  them  to  examine  you  and 
the  others,  and  then  the  government,  on  his 
order,  will  pass  you  on."  •  I  enclose  this,  because, 
if  you  come,  it  will  save  time. 

Of  course  Huldah  went.  Grace  Starr,  her 
married  sister,  went  with  her,  and  Mrs.  Phil- 
brick,  and  Anna  Thwart.  That  was  the  way 
they  happened  to  be  all  together  in  the  Metho 
dist  Church  that  had  been,  of  Talbot  Court 
House,  as  Christmas  holidays  drew  near,  of  the 
year  of  grace,  1863. 


156  STA^D   AJ*D   WAIT. 

She  and  her  friends  had  been  there  quite  long 
enough  to  be  wonted  to  the  strangeness  of 
December  in  the  open  air.  On  her  little  table 
in  front  of  the  desk  of  the  church  were  three  or 
four  buttercups  in  bloom,  which  she  had  gathered 
in  an  afternoon  walk,  with  three  or  four  heads 
of  hawks  weed.  "  The  beginning  of  one  year," 
Huldah  said,  "  with  the  end  of  the  other."  Nay, 
there  was  even  a  stray  rose  which  Dr.  Sprigg 
had  found  in  a  farmer's  garden.  Huldah  came 
out  from  the  vestry,  where  her  own  bed  was,  in 
the  gray  of  the  morning,  changed  the  water  for 
the  poor  little  flowers,  sat  a  moment  at  the 
table  to  look  at  last  night's  memoranda,  and 
then  beckoned  to  the  ward-master,  and  asked 
him,  in  a  whisper,  what  was  the  movement  she 
had  heard  in  the  night,  —  "  Another  alarm  from 
Early?" 

"  No,  Miss ;  not  an  alarm.  I  saw  the  Colonel's 
orderly  as  he  passed.  He  stopped  here  for  Dr. 
Fenno's  case.  There  had  come  down  an  express 
from  General  Mitchell,  and  the  men  were  called 
without  the  bugle,  each  man  separately  ;  not  a 
horse  was  to  neigh,  if  they  could  help  it.  And 
really,  Miss,  they  were  off  in  twenty  minutes." 

"Off,  who  are  off?" 


STAND   AND   WAIT.  157 

"  The  whole  post,  Miss,  except  the  relief  for 
to-day.  There  are  not  fifty  men  in  the  village 
besides  us  here.  The  orderly  thought  they 
were  to  go  down  to  Braxton's  ;  but  he  did  not 
know." 

Here  was  news  indeed !  news  so  exciting  that 
Huldah  went  back  at  once,  and  called  the  other 
women ;  and  then  all  of  them  together  began  on 
that  wretched  business  of  waiting.  They  had 
never  yet  known  what  it  was  to  wait  for  a  real 
battle.  They  had  had  their  beds  filled  with  this 
and  that  patient  from  one  or  another  post,  and 
had  some  gun-shot  wounds  of  old  standing 
among  the  rest ;  but  this  was  their  first  battle 
if  it  were  a  battle.  So  the  covers  were  taken 
off  that  long  line  of  beds,  down  on  the  west  aisle, 
and  from  those  under  the  singers'  seat ;  and  the 
sheets  and  pillow-cases  were  brought  out  from 
the  linen  room,  and  aired,  and  put  on.  Our 
biggest  kettles  are  filled  up  with  strong  soup ; 
and  we  have  our  milk-punch,  and  our  beef-tea 
all  in  readiness ;  and  everybody  we  can  com 
mand  is  on  hand  to  help  lift  patients  and  distrib 
ute  food.  But  there  is  only  too  much  time. 
Will  there  never  be  any  news  ?  Anna  Thwart 
and  Doctor  Sprigg  have  walked  down  to  the 


158  STAND   AND   WAIT. 

bend  of  the  hill,  to  see  if  any  messenger  is  coin 
ing.  As  for  the  other  women,  they  sit  at  their 
table ;  they  look  at  their  watches ;  they  walk 
down  to  the  door ;  they  come  back  to  the  table. 
I  notice  they  have  all  put  on  fresh  aprons,  for 
the  sake  of  doing  something  more  in  getting 
ready. 

Here  is  Anna  Thwart.  "  They  are  coming ! 
they  are  coming!  somebody  is  coming.  A 
mounted  man  is  crossing  the  flat,  coming  towards 
us ;  and  the  doctor  told  me  to  come  back  and 
tell."  Five  minutes  more,  ten  minutes  more, 
an  eternity  more,  and  then,  rat- tat- tat,  rat-tat- 
tat,  the  mounted  man  is  here.  "  Wagons  right 
behind.  We  bagged  every  man  of  them  at 
Wyatt's.  Got  there  before  daylight.  Colonel 
White's  men  from  the  Yellows  came  up  just 
at  the  same  time,  and  we  pitched  in  before  they 
knew  it,  —  three  or  four  regiments,  thirteeen 
hundred  men,  and  all  their  guns." 

"  And  with  no  fighting  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  fighting  of  course.  The  colonel 
has  got  a  train  of  wagons  down  here  with  the  men 
that  are  hurt.  That 's  why  I  am  here.  Here  is 
his  note."  Thus  does  the  mounted  man  dis 
charge  his  errand  backward. 


STAND   AND   WAIT.  159 

DEAR  DOCTOR,  —  We  have  had  great  success. 
We  have  surprised  the  whole  post.  The  com 
pany  across  the  brook  tried  hard  to  get  away ; 
and  a  good  many  of  them,  and  of  Sykes's  men, 
are  hit;  but  I  cannot  find  that  we  have  lost 
more  than  seven  men.  I  have  nineteen  wagons 
here  of  wounded  men,  —  some  hurt  pretty  badly. 

Ever  yours,  H. 

So  there  must  be  more  waiting.  But  now 
we  know  what  we  are  waiting  for ;  and  the  end 
will  come  in  a  finite  world.  Thank  God,  at 
half-past  three,  here  they  are  !  Tenderly,  gen 
tly.  "  Hush,  Sam  !  Hush,  Caesar !  You  talk 
too  much."  Gently,  tenderly.  Twenty-seven 
of  the  poor  fellows,  with  everything  the  matter, 
from  a  burnt  face  to  a  heart  stopping  its  beats 
for  want  of  more  blood. 

"  Huldah,  come  here.  This  is  my  old  class 
mate,  Barthow;  sat  next  me  at  prayers  four 
years.  He  is  a  major  in  their  army,  you  see. 
His  horse  stumbled,  and  pitched  him  against 
a  stone  wall;  and  he  has  not  spoken  since. 
Don't  tell  me  he  is  dying ;  but  do  as  well  for 
him,  Huldah,"  —  and  the  handsome  boy  smiled, 
—  "  do  as  well  for  him  as  you  did  for  me."  So 


160  STAND  AND   WAIT. 

they  carried  Barthow,  senseless  as  lie  was,  ten 
derly  into  the  church  ;  and  he  became  E,  27, 
on  an  iron  bedstead.  Not  half  our  soup  was 
wanted,  nor  our  beef-tea,  nor  our  punch.  So 
much  the  better. 

Then  came  day  and  night,  week  in  and  out, 
of  army  system,  and  womanly  sensibility ;  that 
quiet,  cheerful,  homish,  hospital  life,  in  the 
quaint  surroundings  of  the  white-washed  church  ; 
the  pointed  arches  of  the  windows  and  the  faded 
moreen  of  the  pulpit  telling  that  it  is  a  church, 
in  a  reminder  not  unpleasant.  Two  or  three 
weeks  of  hopes  and  fears,  failures  and  success, 
bring  us  to  Christmas  eve. 

It  is  the  surgeon-in-chief,  who  happens  to 
give  our  particular  Christmas  dinner,  —  I  mean 
the  one  that  interests  you  and  me.  Huldah  and 
the  other  ladies  had  accepted  his  invitation. 
Horace  Bartlett  and  his  staff,  and  some  of  the 
other  officers,  were  guests ;  and  the  doctor  had 
given  his  own  permit  that  Major  Barthow  might 
walk  up  to  his  quarters  with  the  ladies.  Hul 
dah  and  he  were  in  advance,  he  leaning,  with 
many  apologies,  on  her  arm.  Dr.  Sprigg  and 
Anna  Thwart  were  far  behind.  The  two  mar- 


STAND  AND   WAIT.  161 

ried  ladies,  as  needing  no  escort,  were  in  the 
middle.  Major  Barthow  enjoyed  the  emancipa 
tion,  was  delighted  with  his  companion,  could 
not  say  enough  to  make  her  praise  the  glimpses 
of  Virginia,  even  if  it  were  West  Virginia. 

"  What  a  party  it  is,  to  be  sure !  "  said  he. 
"  The  doctor  might  call  on  us  for  our  stories,  as 
one  of  Dickens' s  chiefs  would  do  at  a  Christ 
mas  feast.  Let 's  see,  we  should  have 

THE  SURGEON'S  TALE; 

THE  GENERAL'S  TALE  ; 

for  we  may  at  least  make  believe  that  Hod's 
stars  have  come  from  Washington.  Then  we 
must  call  in  that  one-eyed  servant  of  his ;  and 
we  will  have 

THE  ORDERLY'S  TALE. 
Your  handsome  friend  from  Wisconsin  shall  tell 

THE  GERMAN'S  TALE. 
I  shall  be  encouraged  to  tell 

THE  PRISONER'S  TALE. 
And  you  "  — 

"  And  I  ?  "  said  Huldah  laughing,  because  he 
paused. 

"  You  shall  teU 

THE  SAINT'S  TALE." 

Barthow  spoke  with  real  feeling,  which  he 
11 


162  STAND   AND   WAIT. 

did  not  care  to  disguise.  But  Huldah  was  not 
there  for  sentiment;  and  without  quivering  in 
the  least,  nor  making  other  acknowledgment, 
she  laughed  as  she  knew  she  ought  to  do,  and 
said,  "  Oh,  no  I  that  is  quite  too  grand,  the  story 
must  end  with 

THE  SUPEBINTE:NT>ENT  OF  SPECIAL  RELIEF'S 
TALE. 

It  is  a  little  unromantic  to  the  sound ;  but  that 's 
what  it  is." 

"  I  don't  see,"  persisted  the  major,  "  if  Super 
intendent  of  Special  Relief  means  Saint  in 
Latin,  why  we  should  not  say  so." 

"  Because  we  are  not  talking  Latin,"  said 
Huldah.  "  Listen  to  me  ;  and,  before  we  come 
to  dinner,  I  will  tell  you  a  story  pretty  enough 
for  Dickens,  or  any  of  them ;  and  it  is  a  story 
not  fifteen  minutes  old. 

"  Have  you  noticed  that  black- whiskered  fel 
low,  under  the  gallery,  by  the  north  window  ? 
—  Yes,  the  same.  He  is  French,  enlisted,  I 
think,  in  New  London.  I  came  to  him  just 
now,  managed  to  say  itrennes  and  Noel  to  him, 
and  a  few  other  French  words,  and  asked  if 
there  were  nothing  we  could  do  to  make  him 
more  at  home.  Oh,  no!  there  was  nothing; 


STAND   AND   WAIT.  163 

madame  was  too  good,  and  everybody  was  too 
good,  and  so  on.  But  I  persisted.  I  wished  I 
knew  more  about  Christmas  in  France ;  and 
I  staid  by.  '  No,  madame,  nothing  ;  there  is 
nothing.  But,  since  you  say  it,  —  if  there  were 
two  drops  of  red  wine,  —  du  vin  de  mon  pays, 
madame;  but  you  could  not  here  in  Virginia.' 
Could  not  I  ?  A  superintendent  of  special 
relief  has  long  arms.  There  was  a  box  of  claret, 
which  was  the  first  thing  I  saw  in  the  store 
room  the  day  I  took  my  keys.  The  doctor  was 
only  too  glad  the  man  had  thought  of  it ;  and 
you  should  have  seen  the  pleasure  that  red 
glass,  as  full  as  I  could  pile  it,  gave  him.  The 
tears  were  running  down  his  cheeks.  Anna, 
there,  had  another  Frenchman;  and  she  sent 
some  to  him :  and  my  man  is  now  humming 
a  little  song  about  the  vin  rouge  of  Bour- 
gogne.  Would  not  Mr.  Dickens  make  a  pretty 
story  of  that  for  you,  —  '  THE  FRENCHMAN'S 
STORY' ?" 

Barthow  longed  to  say  that  the  great  novelist 
would  not  make  so  pretty  a  story  as  she  did. 
But  this  time  he  did  not  dare. 

You  are  not  going  to  hear  the  eight  stories. 
Mr.  Dickens  was  not  there ;  nor,  indeed,  was  I. 


164  STAND   AND   WAIT. 

But  a  jolly  Christmas  dinner  they  had  ;  though 
they  had  not  those  eight  stories.  Quiet  they 
were,  and  very,  very  happy.  It  was  a  strange 
thing,  —  if  one  could  have  analyzed  it,  —  that 
they  should  have  felt  so  much  at  home,  and  so 
much  at  ease  with  each  other,  in  that  queer  Vir 
ginian  kitchen,  where  the  doctor  and  his  friends 
of  his  mess  had  arranged  the  feast.  It  was  a 
happy  thing,  that  the  recollections  of  so  many 
other  Christmas  homes  should  come  in,  not 
sadly,  but  pleasantly,  and  should  cheer,  rather 
than  shade  the  evening.  They  felt  off  sound 
ings,  all  of  them.  There  was,  for  the  time,  no 
responsibility.  The  strain  was  gone.  The  gen 
tlemen  were  glad  to  be  dining  with  ladies,  I 
believe :  the  ladies,  unconsciously,  were  prob 
ably  glad  to  be  dining  with  gentlemen.  The 
officers  were  glad  they  were  not  on  duty  ;  and 
the  prisoner,  if  glad  of  nothing  else,  was  glad 
he  was  not  in  bed.  But  he  was  glad  for  many 
things  beside.  You  see  it  was  but  a  little  post. 
They  were  far  away ;  and  they  took  things  with 
the  ease  of  a  detached  command. 

"  Shall  we  have  any  toasts  ?  "  said  the  doctor, 
when  his  nuts  and  raisins  and  apples  at  last 
appeared. 


STAND   AND   WAIT.  165 

"Oh,  no!  no  toasts,  —  nothing  so  stiff  as 
that." 

"  Oh,  yes !  oh,  yes !  "  said  Grace.  "  I  should 
like  to  know  what  it  is  to  drink  a  toast.  Some 
thing  I  have  heard  of  all  my  life,  and  never 
saw." 

"  One  toast,  at  least,  then,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  Colonel  Bartlett,  will  you  name  the  toast?  " 

"  Only  one  toast?  "  said  Horace  ;  "  that  is  a 
hard  selection :  we  must  vote  on  that." 

"  No,  no  !  "  said  a  dozen  voices ;  and  a  dozen 
laughing  assistants  at  the  feast  offered  their 
advice. 

"  I  might  give  '  The  Country  ; '  I  might  give 
'  The  Cause  ; '  I  might  give  '  The  President : ' 
and  everybody  would  drink,"  said  Horace.  "  I 
might  give  '  Absent  friends,'  or  '  Home,  sweet 
home  ; '  but  then  we  should  cry." 

"  Why  do  you  not  give  '  The  trepanned  peo 
ple  '  ?  "  said  Worster,  laughing,  "  or  '  The  sil 
ver-headed  gentlemen '  ?  " 

"Why  don't  you  give  'The  Staff  and  the 
Line'?"  "Why  don't  you  give  'Here's 
Hoping '  ?  "  "  Give  '  Next  Christmas.'  "  "  Give 
'  The  Medical  Department ;  and  may  they  often 
ask  us  to  dine  ! '  " 


166  STAND   AND   WAIT. 

"  Give  '  Saints  and  Sinners,' "  said  Major  Bar- 
thow,  after  the  first  outcry  was  hushed. 

"  I  shall  give  no  such  thing,"  said  Horace. 
"  We  have  had  a  lovely  dinner  ;  and  we  know 
we  have  ;  and  the  host,  who  is  a  good  fellow, 
knows  the  first  thanks  are  not  to  him.  Those 
of  us  who  ever  had  our  heads  knocked  open, 
like  the  Major  and  me,  do  know.  Fill  your 
glasses,  gentlemen  ;  I  give  you '  the  Special  Diet 
Kitchen.'  " 

He  took  them  all  by  surprise.  There  was  a 
general  shout ;  and  the  ladies  all  rose,  and 
dropped  mock  courtesies. 

"  By  Jove !  "  said  Barthow  to  the  Colonel, 
afterwards,  "  It  was  the  best  toast  I  ever  drank 
in  my  life.  Anyway,  that  little  woman  has 
saved  my  life.  Do  you  say  she  did  the  same  to 

you?"  " 

m. 

CHRISTMAS    AGAIN. 

So  you  think  that  when  the  war  was  over 
Major  Barthow,  then  Major-General,  remem 
bered  Huldah  all  the  same,  and  came  on  and 
persuaded  her  to  marry  him,  and  that  she  is  now 


STAND   AND   WAIT.  167 

sitting  in  her  veranda,  looking  down-  on  the 
Pamunkey  River.  You  think  that,  do  not  you  ? 

Well!  you  were  never  so  mistaken  in  your 
life.  If  you  want  that  story,  you  can  go  and 
buy  yourself  a  dime  novel.  I  would  buy  "  The 
Rescued  Rebel ;  "  or,  "  The  Noble  Nurse,"  if  I 
were  you. 

After  the  war  was  over,  Huldah  did  make 
Colonel  Barthow  and  his  wife  a  visit  once,  at 
their  plantation  in  Pocataligo  County;  but  I 
was  not  there,  and  know  nothing  about  it. 

Here  is  a  Christmas  of  hers,  about  which  she 
wrote  a  letter ;  and,  as  it  happens,  it  was  a  letter 
to  Mrs.  Barthow. 

HUI^DAH    BOOT    TO    AGNES    BAKTHOW. 

ViLLERS-BocAGE,  Dec.  27,  1868. 

.  .  .  Here  I  was,  then,  after  this  series  of 
hopeless  blunders,  sole  alone  at  the  gare  [French 
for  station]  of  this  little  out-of-the-way  town. 
My  dear,  there  was  never  an  American  here 
since  Christopher  Columbus  slept  here  when  he 
was  a  boy.  And  here,  you  see,  I  was  like  to 
remain  ;  for  there  was  no  possibility  of  the 
others  getting  back  to  me  till  to-morrow,  and 
no  good  in  my  trying  to  overtake  them.  All  I 


168  STAND   AND   WAIT. 

could  do  was  just  to  bear  it,  and  live  on,  and 
live  through  from  Thursday  to  Monday ;  and, 
really,  what  was  worst  of  all  was  that  Friday 
was  Christmas  day. 

Well,  I  found  a  funny  little  carriage,  with  a 
funny  old  man  who  did  not  understand  my 
patois  any  better  than  I  did  his ;  but  he  under 
stood  a  franc-piece.  I  had  my  guide-book,  and 
I  said  auberge  ;  and  we  came  to  the  oddest,  most 
outlandish,  and  old-fashioned  establishment  that 
ever  escaped  from  one  of  Julia  Nathalie  woman's 
novels.  And  here  I  am. 

And  the  reason,  my  dear  Mrs.  Barthow,  that 
I  take  to-day  to  write  to  you,  you  and  the 
Colonel  will  now  understand.  You  see  it  was 
only  ten  o'clock  when  I  got  here  ;  then  I  went 
to  walk,  many  enfans  terribles  following  respect 
fully;  then  I  came  home,  and  ate  the  funny 
refection ;  then  I  got  a  nap ;  then  I  went  to 
walk  again,  and  made  a  little  sketch  in  the 
churchyard  :  and  this  time,  one  of  the  children 
brought  up  her  mother,  a  funny  Norman  woman, 
in  a  delicious  costume,  —  I  have  a  sketch  of 
another  just  like  her,  —  and  she  dropped  a  cour 
tesy,  and  in  a  very  mild  patois  said  she  hoped 
the  children  did  not  trouble  madame.  And  I 


STAND   AND   WAIT.  169 

said,  "  Oh,  no ! "  and  found  a  sugar-plum  for 
the  child  and  showed  my  sketch  to  the  woman ; 
and  she  said  she  supposed  madame  was  Ang- 
laise. 

I  said  I  was  not  Anglaise,  —  and  here  the 
story  begins ;  for  I  said  I  was  Americaine.  And, 
do  you  know,  her  face  lighted  up  as  if  I  had 
said  I  was  St.  Gulda,  or  St.  Hilda,  or  any  of 
their  Northmen  Saints. 

"  Americaine  !  est-il  possible  ?  Jeannette, 
Gertrude,  faites  vos  re've'rences.  Madame  est 
Americaine." 

And,  sure  enough,  they  all  dropped  preter 
natural  courtesies.  And  then  the  most  eager 
enthusiasm  ;  how  fond  they  all  were  of  Us  Amer- 
icaines,  but  how  no  America/me*  had  ever  come 
before  !  And  was  madame  at  the  Three  Cyg 
nets  ?  And  might  she  and  her  son  and  her  hus 
band  call  to  see  madame  at  the  Three  Cygnets  ? 
And  might  she  bring  a  little  etrenne  to 
madame  ?  And  I  know  not  what  beside. 

I  was  very  glad  the  national  reputation  had 
gone  so  far.  I  really  wished  I  were  Charles 
Sumner  (pardon  me,  dear  Agnes),  that  I  might 
properly  receive  the  delegation.  But  I  said, 
"  Oh,  certainly  ! "  and,  as  it  grew  dark,  with  my 


170  STAND   AND   WAIT. 

admiring  cortege  whispering  now  to  the  street 
full  of  admirers  that  madame  was  Americaine, 
I  returned  to  the  Three  Cygnets. 

And  in  the  evening  they  all  came.  Really, 
you  should  see  the  pretty  basket  they  brought 
for  an  Strenne.  I  could  not  guess  then  where 
they  got  such  exquisite  flowers ;  these  lovely 
stephanotis  blossoms,  a  perfect  wealth  of  roses, 
and  all  arranged  with  charming  taste  in  a  quaint 
country  basket,  such  as  exists  nowhere  but  in 
this  particular  section  of  this  quaint  old  Nor 
mandy.  In  came  the  husband,  dressed  up,  and 
frightened,  but  thoroughly  good  in  his  look. 
In  came  my  friend ;  and.  then  two  sons  and 
two  wives,  and  three  or  four  children  :  and,  my 
dear  Agnes,  one  of  the  sons,  I  knew  him  in 
an  instant,  was  a  man  we  had  at  Talbot  Court 
House  when  your  husband  was  there.  I  think 
the  Colonel  will  remember  him,  —  a  black- 
whiskered  man,  who  used  to  sing  a  little  song 
about  le  vin  rouge  of  Bourgogne. 

He  did  not  remember  me  ;  that  I  saw  in  a 
moment.  It  was  all  so  different,  you  know. 
In  the  hospital,  I  had  on  my  cap  and  apron,  and 
here,  —  well,  it  was  another  thing.  My  hostess 
knew  that  they  were  coming,  and  had  me  in  her 


STAND   AND   WAIT.  173 

largest  room,  and  I  succeeded  in  making  them 
all  sit  down ;  and  I  received  my  formal  wel 
come  ;  and  I  thanked  in  my  most  Parisian 
French ;  and  then  the  conversation  hung  fire. 
But  I  took  my  turn  now,  and  turned  round  to 
poor  Louis. 

"  You  served  in  America,  did  you  not  ?  '* 
said  I. 

"  Ah,  yes,  madame !  I  did  not  know  my 
mother  had  told  you." 

No  more  did  she,  indeed;  and  she  looked 
astonished.  But  I  persevered,  — 

"  You  seem  strong  and  well." 

"  Ah,  yes,  madame  !  " 

"  How  long  since  you  returned  ?  " 

"As  soon  as  there  was  peace,  madame.  We 
were  mustered  out  in  June,  madame." 

"  And  does  your  arm  never  trouble  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  never,  madame  !  I  did  not  know  my 
mother  had  told  you." 

New  astonishment  on  the  part  of  the  mother. 

"  You  never  had  another  piece  of  bone  come 
out?" 

"  Oh,  no,  madame  !  how  did  madame  know  ? 
I  did  not  know  my  mother  had  told  you  ! " 

And  by  this  time  I  could  not  help  saying, 


172  STAND   AND   WAIT. 

"  You  Normans  care  more  for  Christmas  than 
we  Americans  ;  is  it  not  so,  my  brave  ?  " 

And  this  he  would  not  stand  ;  and  he  said 
stoutly,  "Ah,  no,  madame !  no,  no,  jamais!" 
and  began  an  eager  defence  of  the  religious 
enthusiasm  of"  the  Americans,  and  their  good 
ness  to  all  people  who  were  good,  if  people 
would  only  be  good.  But  still  he  had  not  the 
least  dream  who  I  was.  And  I  said,  — 

"  Do  the  Normans  ever  drink  Burgundy  ?  " 
and  to  my  old  hostess,  "  Madame,  could  you 
bring  us  a  flask  du  vin  rouge  de  Bourgogne  ?  " 
and  then  I  hummed  his  little  chanson,  I  am  sure 
Colonel  Barthow  will  remember  it,  —  "  Deux 
— gouttes  —  du  vin  rouge  du  Bourgogne" 

My  dear  Mrs.  Barthow,  he  sprang  from  his 
chair,  and  fell  on  his  knees,  and  kissed  my 
hands,  before  I  could  stop  him.  And  when  his 
mother  and  father,  and  all  the  rest,  found  thai 
I  was  the  particular  soeur  de  la  cliarite  who  had 
had  the  care  of  dear  Louis  when  he  was  hurt, 
and  that  it  was  I  he  had  told  of  that  very  day,  — 
for  the  thousandth  time,  I  believe,  —  who  gave 
him  that  glass  of  claret,  and  cheered  up  his 
Christmas,  I  verily  believe  they  would  have 
taken  me  to  the  church  to  worship  me.  They 


STAND   AND   WAIT.  173 

were  not  satisfied,  —  the  women  with  kissing 
me,  or  the  men  with  shaking  hands  with  each 
other,  —  the  whole  auberge  had  to-  be  called  in ; 
and  poor  I  was  famous.  I  need  not  say  I  cried 
my  eyes  out ;  and  when,  at  ten  o'clock,  they 
let  me  go  to  bed,  I  was  worn  out  with  crying, 
and  laughing,  and  talking,  and  listening ;  and  I 
believe  they  were  as  much  upset  as  I. 

Now  that  is  just  the  beginning ;  and  yet  I 
see  I  must  stop.  But,  for  forty-eight  hours, 
I  have  been  simply  a  queen.  I  can  hardly  put 
my  foot  to  the  ground.  Christmas  morning, 
these  dear  Thibault  people  came  again ;  and 
then  the  cure  came ;  and  then  some  nice 
Madame  Perrons  came,  and  I  went  to  mass 
with  them  ;  and,  after  mass,  their  brother's  car 
riage  came ;  and  they  would  take  no  refusals  ; 
but  with  many  apologies  to  my  sweet  old 
hostess,  at  the  Three  Cygnets,  I  was  fain  to 
come  up  to  M.  Firmin's  lovely  chdteau  here, 
and  make  myself  at  home  till  my  friends  shall 
arrive.  It  seems  the  poor  Thibaults  had  come 
here  to  beg  the  flowers  for  the  etrenne.  It  is 
really  the  most  beautiful  country  residence  I 
have  seen  in  France  ;  and  they  live  on  the  most 
patriarchal  footing  with  all  the  people  round 


174  STAND   AND   WAIT. 

them.  I  ain  sure  I  ought  to  speak  kindly  of 
them.  It  is  the  most  fascinating  hospitality. 
So  here  am  -I,  waiting,  with  my  little  sac  de 
nuit  to  make  me  aspettdbile  ;  and  here  I  ate  my 
Christmas  dinner.  Tell  the  Colonel  that  here 
is  "  THE  TRAVELLER'S  TALE  ; "  and  that  is 
why  the  letter  is  so  long. 

Most  truly  yours, 

HTJLDAH  ROOT. 

IV. 

ONE  CHRISTMAS  MORE. 

THIS  last  Christmas  party  is  Huldah's  own. 
It  is  hers,  at  least,  as  much  as  it  is  any  one's. 
There  are  five  of  them,  nay,  six,  with  equal 
right  to  precedence  in  the  John  o'  Groat's  house, 
where  she  has  settled  down.  It  is  one  of  thosp 
comfortable  houses  which  are  still  left  three 
miles  out  from  the  old  State  House  in  Boston. 
It  is  not  all  on  one  floor ;  that  would  be,  per 
haps,  too  much  like  the  golden  courts  of  heaven. 
There  are  two  stories ;  but  they  are  connected 
by  a  central  flight  of  stairs  of  easy  tread  (de 
signed  by  Charles  Cummings)  ;  so  easy,  and  so 
stately  withal,  that,  as  you  pass  over  them,  you 


STAND   AND   WAIT.  175 

always  bless  the  builder,  and  hardly  know  that 
you  go  up  or  down.  Five  large  rooms  on  each 
floor  give  ample  room  for  the  five  heads  of  the 
house,  if,  indeed,  there  be  not  six,  as  I  said 
before. 

Into  this  Saints'  Rest,  there  have  drifted  to 
gether,  by  the  eternal  law  of  attraction,  —  Hul- 
dah,  and  Ellen  Philbrick  (who  was  with  her  in 
Virginia  and  in  France,  and  has  been,  indeed, 
but  little  separated  from  her,  except  on  duty, 
for  twenty  years),  and  with  them  three  other 
friends.  These  women,  —  well,  I  cannot  intro 
duce  them  to  you  without  writing  three  stories 
of  true  romance,  one  for  each.  This  quiet, 
strong,  meditative,  helpful  saint,  who  is  coming 
into  the  parlor  now,  is  Helen  Touro.  She  was 
left  alone  with  her  baby  when  "  The  Empire 
State  "  went  down ;  and  her  husband  was  never 
heard  of  more.  The  love  of  that  baby  warmed 
her  to  the  love  of  all  others ;  and,  when  I  first 
knew  her,  she  was  ruling  over  a  home  of  babies, 
whose  own  mothers  or  fathers  were  not, — 
always  with  a  heart  big  enough  to  say  there 
was  room  for  one  more  waif  in  that  sanctuary. 
That  older  woman,  who  is  writing  at  the  Dav- 
enpott  in  the  corner,  lightened  the  cares  and 


176  STAND   AND   WAIT. 

smoothed  the  daily  life  of  General  Schuyler  in 
all  the  last  years  of  his  life,  when  he  was  in  the 
Cabinet,  in  Brazil,  and  in  Louisiana.  His  wife 
was  long  ill,  and  then  died.  His  children 
needed  all  a  woman's  care ;  and  this  woman 
stepped  to  the  front,  cared  for  them,  cared  for 
all  his  household,  cared  for  him :  and  I  dare 
not  say  how  much  is  due  to  her  of  that  which 
you  and  I  say  daily  we  owe  to  him.  Miss  Peters, 
I  see  you  know.  She  served  in  another  regi 
ment  ;  was  at  the  head  of  the  sweetest,  noblest, 
purest  school  that  ever  trained,  in  five  and 
twenty  years,  five  hundred  girls  to  be  the 
queens  in  five  hundred  happy  and  strong  fam 
ilies.  All  of  these  five,  —  our  Huldah  and  Mrs. 
Philbrick  too,  you  have  seen  before,  —  all  of 
them  have  been  in  "  the  service  ; "  all  of  them 
have  known  that  perfect  service  is  perfect  free 
dom.  I  think  they  know  that  perfect  service  is 
the  highest  honor.  They  have  together  taken 
this  house,  as  they  say,  for  the  shelter  and  home 
of  their  old  age.  But  Huldah,  as  she  plays  with 
your  Harry  there,  does  not  look  to  me  as  if  she 
were  superannuated  yet. 

"  But  you  said  there  were  six  in  all." 

Did  I  ?    I  suppose  there  are.     "  Mrs.  Phil- 


STAND   AND   WAIT.  177 

brick,  are  there  five  captains  in  your  establish 
ment,  or  six  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Hale,  why  do  you  ask  me  ? 
You  know  there  are  five  captains  and  one  gen 
eral.  We  have  persuaded  Seth  Corbet  to  make 
his  home  here, — yes,  the  same  who  went 
round  the  world  with  Mrs.  Cradock.  Since  her 
death,  he  has  come  home  to  Boston ;  and  he 
reports  to  us,  and  ma^kes  his  head-quarters  here. 
He  sees  that  we  are  all  right  every  morning ; 
and  then  he  goes  his  rounds  to  see  every  grand 
child  of  old  Mr.  Cradock,  and  to  make  sure  that 
every  son  and  daughter  of  that  house  is  '  all 
right.'  Sometimes  he  is  away  over  night.  This 
is  when  somebody  in  the  whole  circle  of  all  their 
friends  is  more  sick  than  usual,  and  needs  a  man 
nurse.  That  old  man  was  employed  by  old  Mr. 
Cradock,  in  1816,  when  he  first  went  to  house 
keeping.  He  has  had  all  the  sons  and  all  the 
daughters  of  that  house  in  his  arms ;  and  now 
that  the  youngest  of  them  is  five  and  twenty, 
and  the  oldest  fifty,  I  suppose  he  is  not  satisfied 
any  day  until  he  has  seen  that  they  and  theirs, 
in  their  respective  homes,  are  well.  He  thinks 
we  here  are  babies  ;  but  he  takes  care  of  us  all 
the  more  courteously." 

12 


178  STAND    AND   WAIT. 

"  Will  he  dine  with  you  to-day  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  not ;  but  we  shall  see  him  at 
the  Christmas-tree  after  dinner.  There  is  to  be 
a  tree." 

You  see,  this  house  was  dedicated  to  the 
Apotheosis  of  Noble  Ministry.  Over  the  man 
tel-piece  hung  Raphael  Morghen's  large  print  of 
"  The  Lavatio,"  Caracci's  picture  of  "  The 
Washing  of  the  Feet,"  —  the  only  copy  I  ever 
saw.  We  asked  Huldah  about  it. 

"  Oh,  that  was  a  present  from  Mr.  Burchstadt, 
a  rich  manufacturer  in  Wiirtemberg,  to  Ellen. 
She  stumbled  into  one  of  those  villages  when 
everybody  was  sick  and  dying  of  typhus,  and 
tended  and  watched  and  saved,  one  whole  sum 
mer  long,  as  Mrs.  Ware  did  at  Osrnotherly. 
And  this  Mr.  Burchstadt  wanted  to  do  some 
thing,  and  he  sent  her  this  in  acknowledg 
ment." 

On  the  other  side  was  Kaulbach's  own  study 
of  Elizabeth  of  Hungary,  dropping  her  apron 
full  of  roses. 

"  Oh !  what  a  sight  the  apron  discloses ; 
The  viands  are  changed  to  real  roses !" 

When  I  asked  Huldah  where  that  came  from, 
she  blushed,  and  said,  "  Oh,  that  was  a  present 


STAND   AND   WAIT.  179 

to  me  !  "  and  led  us  to  Steinler's  exquisite  "  Good 
Shepherd,"  in  a  larger  and.  finer  print  than  I 
had  ever  seen.  Six  or  eight  gentlemen  in  New 
York,  who,  when  they  were  dirty  babies  from 
the  gutter,  had  been  in  Helen  Touro's  hands, 
had  sent  her  a  portfolio  of  beautiful  prints,  each 
with  this  same  idea,  of  seeking  what  was  lost. 
This  one  she  had  chosen  for  the  sitting-room. 

And,  on  the  fourth  side,  was  that  dashing 
group  of  Horace  Vernet's,  "  Gideon  crossing 
Jordan,"  with  the  motto  wrought  into  the 
frame,  "  Faint,  yet  pursuing."  These  four  pic 
tures  are  all  presents  to  the  "girls,"  as  I  find 
I  still  call  them ;  and,  on  the  easel,  Miss  Peters 
had  put  her  copy  of  "  The  Tribute  Money." 
There  were  other  pictures  in  the  room;  but 
these  five  unconsciously  told  its  story. 

The  five  "  girls  "  were  always  all  together  at 
Christmas  ;  but,  in  practice,  each  of  them  lived 
here  only  two-fifths  of  her  time.  "  We  make 
that  a  rule,"  said  Ellen  laughing.  "  If  anybody 
comes  for  anybody  when  there  are  only  two 
here,  those  two  are  engaged  to  each  other ;  and 
we  stay.  Not  but  what  they  can  come  and  stay 
here  if  we  cannot  go  to  them."  In  practice,  if 
any  of  us  in  the  immense  circles  which  these 


180  STAND   AND   WAIT. 

saints  had  befriended  were  in  a  scrape,  —  as,  if 
a  mother  was  called  away  from  home,  and  there 
were  some  children  left,  or  if  scarlet  fever  got 
into  a  house,  or  if  the  children  had  nobody  to  go 
to  Mt.  Desert  with  them,  or  if  the  new  house 
were  to  be  set  in  order,  and  nobody  knew  how, 
—  in  any  of  the  trials  of  well-ordered  families, 
why,  we  rode  over  to  the  Saints'  Rest  to  see  if 
we  could  not  induce  one  of  the  five  to  come  and 
put  things  through.  So  that,  in  practice,  there 
were  seldom  more  than  two  on  the  spot  there. 

But  we  do  not  get  to  the  Christmas  dinner. 
There  were  covers  for  four  and  twenty ;  and  all 
the  children  besides  were  in  a  room  upstairs, 
presided  over  by  Maria  Munro,  who  was  in  her 
element  there.  Then  our  party  of  twenty-four 
included  men  and  women  of  a  thousand  ro 
mances,  who  had  learned  and  had  shown  the 
nobility  of  service.  One  or  two  of  us  were 
invited  as  novices,  in  the  hope  perhaps  that  we 
might  learn. 

Scarcely  was  the  soup  served  when  the  door 
bell  rang.  Nothing  else  ever  made  Huldah  look 
nervous.  Bartlett,  who  was  there,  said  in  an 
aside  to  me,  that  he  had  seen  her  more  calm 
when  there  was  volley  firing  within  hearing  of 


STAND   AND    WAIT.  181 

her  store-room.  Then  it  rang  again.  Helen 
Touro  talked  more  vehemently ;  and  Mrs. 
Bartlett  at  her  end,  started  a  great  laugh.  But, 
when  it  rang  the  third  time,  something  had  to 
be  said ;  and  Huldah  asked  one  of  the  girls,  who 
was  waiting,  if  there  were  no  one  attending  at 
the  door. 

"  Yes  'm,  Mr.  Corbet." 

But  the  bell  rang  a  fourth  time,  and  a  fifth. 

"  Isabel,  you  can  go  to  the  door.  Mr.  Corbet 
must  have  stepped  out." 

So  Isabel  went  out,  but  returned  with  a  face 
as  broad  as  a  soup-plate.  "  Mr.  Corbet  is  there, 
ma'am." 

Sixth  door-bell  peal,  —  seventh,  and  eighth. 

"  Mary,  I  think  you  had  better  see  if  Mr. 
Corbet  has  gone  away." 

Mary  returns,  face  one  broad  grin. 

"  No,  ma'am,  Mr.  Corbet  is  there." 

Heavy  steps  in  the  red  parlor.  Side  door 
bell  —  a  little  gong,  begins  to  ring.  Front  bell 
rings  ninth  time,  tenth,  and  eleventh. 

Saint  John,  as  we  call  him,  had  seen  that 
something  was  amiss,  and  had  kindly  pitched  in 
with  a  dissertation  on  the  passage  of  the  Red- 
River  Dam,  in  which  the  gravy-boats  were 


182  STAND   AND   WAIT. 

steamships,  and  the  cranberry  was  General 
Banks,  and  the  aids  were  spoons.  But,  when 
both  door-bells  rang  together,  and  there  were 
more  steps  in  the  hall,  Huldah  said,  "  If  you 
^vill  excuse  me,"  and  rose  from  the  table. 

"  No,  no,  we  will  not  excuse  you,"  cried 
Olara  Hastings.  "  Nobody  will  excuse  you. 
This  is  the  one  day  of  the  year  when  you  are  not 
to  work.  Let  me  go."  So  Clara  went  out.  And 
after  Clara  went  out,  the  door-bells  rang  no 
more.  I  think  she  cut  the  bell-wires.  She 
soon  caine  back,  and  said  a  man  was  inquiring 
his  way  to  the  "  Smells  ;  "  and  they  directed 
him  to  "  Wait's  Mills,"  which  she  hoped  would 
do.  And  so  Huldah's  and  Grace's  stupendous 
housekeeping  went  on  in  its  solid  order,  remind 
ing  one  of  those  well-proportioned  Worcester  teas 
which  are,  perhaps,  the  crown  and  glory  of  the 
New  England  science  in  this  matter.  I  ven 
tured  to  ask  Sam  Root,  who  sat  by  me,  if  the 
Marlborough  were  not  equal  to  his  mother's. 

And  we  sat  long ;  and  we  laughed  loud. 
We  talked  war  and  poetry  and  genealogy. 
We  rallied  Helen  Touro  about  her  housekeep 
ing  ;  and  Dr.  Worster  pretended  to  give  a  list 
of  Surgeons  and  Majors  and  Major-Generals 


STA1STD    AND    WAIT.  183 

who  had  made  love  to  Huldah.  By  and  by, 
when  the  grapes  and  the  bonbons  came,  the 
sixteen  children  were  led  in  by  Maria  Munro, 
who  had,  till  now,  kept  them  at  games  of  string 
and  hunt  the  slipper.  And,  at  last,  Seth  Cor 
bet  flung  open  the  door  into  the  red  parlor  to 
announce  "  The  Tree." 

Sure  enough,  there  was  the  tree,  as  the  five 
saints  had  prepared  it  for  the  invited  children, 
—  glorious  in  gold,  and  white  with  wreaths  of 
snow-flakes,  and  blazing  with  candles.  Sam 
Root  kissed  Grace,  and  said,  "  O  Grace  !  do  you 
remember  ?  "  But  the  tree  itself  did  not  sur 
prise  the  children  as  much  as  the  five  tables  at 
the  right  and  the  left,  behind  and  before,  amazed 
the  Sainted  Five,  who  were  indeed  the  children 
now.  A  box  of  the  vin  rouge  de  Bourgogne, 
from  Louis,'  was  the  first  thing  my  eye  lighted 
on,  and  above  it  a  little  banner  read,  "  Huldah 's 
table."  And  then  I  saw  that  there  were  these 
five  tables,  heaped  with  the  Christmas  offerings 
to  the  five  saints.  It  proved  that  everybody,  the 
world  over,  had  heard  that  they  had  settled 
down.  Everybody  in  the  four  hemispheres,  — 
if  there  be  four,  —  who  had  remembered  the 
unselfish  service  of  these  five,  had  thought  this 


184  STAND   AND   WAIT. 

a  fit  time  for  commemorating  such  unselfish  love, 
were  it  only  by  such  a  present  as  a  lump  of  coal. 
Almost  everybody,  I  think,  had  made  Seth  Cor- 
bst  a  confidant ;  and  so,  while  the  five  saints 
were  planning  their  pretty  tree  for  the  sixteen 
children,  the  North  and  the  South,  and  the 
East  and  the  West,  were  sending  myrrh  and 
frankincense  and  gold  to  them.  The  pictures 
were  hung  with  Southern  moss  from  Barthow. 
Boys,  who  were  now  men,  had  sent  coral  from 
India,  pearl  from  Ceylon,  and  would  have  been 
glad  to  send  ice  from  Greenland,  had  Christmas 
come  in  midsummer ;  there  were  diamonds 
from  Brazil,  and  silver  from  Nevada,  from  those 
who  lived  there ;  there  were  books,  in  the 
choicest  binding,  in  memory  of  copies  of  the 
same  word,  worn  by  travel,  or  dabbled  in  blood ; 
there  were  pictures,  either  by  the  hand  of  near 
friendship,  or  by  the  master  hand  of  genius, 
which  brought  back  the  memories,  perhaps,  of 
some  old  adventure  in  "The  Service,"  —  per 
haps,  as  the  Kaulbach  did,  of  one  of  those 
histories  which  makes  all  service  sacred.  In 
five  and  twenty  years  of  life,  these  women  had 
so  surrounded  themselves,  without  knowing  it 
or  thinking  of  it,  with  loyal,  yes,  adoring  friends, 


STAND  AND   WAIT.  185 

that  the  accident  of  their  finding  a  fixed  home 
had  called  in  all  at  once  this  wealth  cf  acknowl 
edgment  from  those  whom  they  might  have 
forgotten,  but  who  would  never  forget  them. 
And,  by  the  accident  of  our  coming  together, 
we  saw,  in  these  heaps  on  heaps  of  offerings  of 
love,  some  faint  record  of  the  lives  they  had 
enlivened,  the  wounds  they  had  stanched,  the 
tears  they  had  wiped  away,  and  the  homes  they 
had  cheered.  For  themselves,  the  five  saints 
—  as  I  have  called  them  —  were  laughing  and 
crying  together,  quite  upset  in  the  surprise. 
For  ourselves,  there  was  not  one  of  us  who,  in 
this  little  visible  display  of  the  range  of  years 
of  service,  did  not  take  in  something  more  of  the 
meaning  of,  — 

"  He  who  will  be  chief  among  you,  let  him  be 
your  servant." 

The  surprise,  the  excitement,  the  laughter, 
and  the  tears  found  vent  in  the  children's  eager 
ness  to  be  led  to  their  tree  ;  and,  in  three 
minutes,  Ellen  was  opening  boxes,  and  Huldah 
pulling  fire-crackers,  as  if  they  had  not  been 
thrown  off  their  balance.  But,  when  each  boy 
and  girl  had  two  arms  full,  and  the  fir  balsam 
sent  down  from  New  Durham  was  nearly  bare, 


186  STAND   AXD   WAIT. 

Edgar  Bartlett  pointed  to  the  top  bough,  where 
was  a  brilliant  not  noticed  before..  No  one  had 
noticed  it,  —  not  Seth  himself,  —  who  had  most 
of  the  other  secrets  of  that  house  in  his  posses 
sion.  I  am  sure  that  no  man,  woman,  or  child 
knew  how  the  thing  came  there :  but  Seth 
lifted  the  little  discoverer  high  in  air,  and  he 
brought  it  down  triumphant.  It  was  a  parcel 
made  up  in  shining  silvered  paper.  Seth  cut 
the  strings. 

It  contained  twelve  Maltese  crosses  of  gold, 
with  as  many  jewels,  one  in  the  heart  of  each, 

—  I  think  the  blazing  twelve  of  the  Revelations. 
They  were  displayed  on  ribbons  of  blue  and 
white,  six   of  which  bore   Huldah's,   Helen's, 
Ellen  Philbrick's,  Hannah's,  Miss  Peters's,  and 
Seth   Corbet's  names.     The  other  six  had  no 
names  ;  but  on  the  gold  of  these  was  marked, 

—  "  From  Huldah,  to "  "  From  Helen,  to 

"  and  so  on,  as  if  these  were  decorations 

which  they  were  to  pass  along.      The   saints 
themselves   were   the   last   to   understand   the 
decorations  ;  but  the  rest  of  us  caught  the  idea, 
and  pinned  them  on  their  breasts.     As  we  did 
so,   the   ribbons   unfolded,   and  displayed    the 
motto  of  the  order:  — 


STAND   AND   WAIT.  187 

"  Henceforth  I  call  you  not  servants,  I  have 
called  you  friends." 

It  was  at  that  Christmas  that  the  "  ORDER 
OF  LOVING  SERVICE  "  was  born. 


THE    TWO     PRINCES. 

A  STORY  FOB   CHILDREN. 


I. 

r  I  "'HERE  was  a  King  of  Hungary  whose  name 
was  Adelbert. 

When  he  lived  at  home,  which  was  not  often, 
it  was  in  a  castle  of  many  towers  and  many 
halls  and  many  stairways,  in  the  city  of  Buda, 
by  the  side  of  the  river  Donau. 

He  had  four  daughters,  and  only  one  son, 
who  was  to  be  the  King  after  him,  whose  name 
was  Ladislaus.  But  it  was  the  custom  of  those 
times,  as  boys  and  girls  grew  up,  to  send  them 
for  their  training  to  some  distance  from  their 
home,  even  for  many  months  at  a  time,  to  try  a 
little  experiment  on  them,  and  see  how  they 
fared ;  and  so,  at  the  time  I  tell  you  of,  there 
was  staying  in  the  castle  of  Buda  the  Prince 


THE   TWO   PRINCES.  189 

Bel  a,  who  was  the  son  of  the  King  of  Bohemia , 
and  he  and  the  boy  Ladislaus  studied  their 
lessons  together,  and  flew  their  kites,  and  hunted 
for  otters,  and  rode  with  the  falconers  together. 

One  day  as  they  were  studying  with  the  tutor, 
who  was  a  priest  named  Stephen,  he  gave  to 
them  a  book  of  fables,  and  each  read  a  fable. 

Ladislaus  read  the  fable  of  the 

SKY-LAKK. 

The  sky-lark  sat  on  the  topmost  bough  of  the 
savy-tree,  and  was  waked  by  the  first  ray  of  the 
sun.  Then  the  sky-lark  flew  and  flew  up  and 
up  to  the  topmost  arch  of  the  sky,  and  sang  the 
hymn  of  the  morning. 

But  a  frog,  who  was  croaking  in  the  cranberry 
marsh,  said,  "  Why  do  you  take  such  pains  and 
'fly  so  high  ?  the  sun  shines  here,  and  I  can  sing 
here." 

And  the  bird  said,  "  God  has  made  me  to  fly. 
God.  has  made  me  to  see.  I  will  fly  as  high  as 
He  will  lift  me,  and  sing  so  loud  that  all  shall 
hear  me." 

And  when  the  little  Prince  Ladislaus  had 
read  the  fable,  he  cried  out,  "  The  sky-lark  is 


190  THE  TWO   PRINCES. 

the  bird  for  me,  and  I  will  paint  his  picture  on 
my  shield  after  school  this  morning." 

Then  the  Prince  Bela  read  the  next  fable, — 
the  fable  of  the 

WATER-RAT. 

A  good  beaver  found  one  day  a  little  water 
rat  almost  dead.  His  father  and  mother  had 
been  swept  away  by  a  freshet,  and  the  little  rat 
was  almost  starved.  But  the  kind  beaver  gave 
him  of  her  own  milk,  and  brought  him  up  in  her 
own  lodge  with  her  children,  and  he  got  well, 
and  could  eat,  and  swim,  and  dive  with  the  best 
of  them. 

But  one  day  there  was  a  great  alarm,  that  the 
beavers'  dam  was  giving  way  before  the  water. 
"  Come  one,  come  all,"  said  the  grandfather  of 
the  beavers,  "  come  to  the  rescue."  So  they  all 
started,  carrying  sticks  and  bark  with  them,  the 
water-rat  and  all.  But  as  they  swam  under  an 
old  oak-tree's  root,  the  water-rat  stopped  in  the 
darkness,  and  then  he  quietly  turned  round  and 
went  back  to  the  hut.  "  It  will  be  hard  work," 
said  he  "  and  there  are  enough  of  them."  There 
were  enough  of  them.  They  mended  the  dam 
by  working  all  night  and  by  working  all  day 


THE   TWO   PRINCES.  191 

But,  as  they  came  back,  a  great  wave  of  the 
freshet  came  pouring  over  the  dam  and,  though 
the  dam  stood  firm,  the  beavers  were  swept 
away,  —  away  and  away,  down  the  river  into 
the  sea,  and  they  died  there. 

And  the  water-rat  lived  in  their  grand  house 
by  himself,  and  had  all  their  stores  of  black- 
birch  bark  and  willow  bark  and  sweet  poplar 
bark  for  his  own. 

"  That  was  a  clever  rat,"  said  the  Prince  Bela. 
"  I  will  paint  the  rat  on  my  shield,  when  school 
is  done."  And  the  priest  Stephen  was  very  sad 
when  he  said  so  ;  and  the  Prince  Ladislaus  was 
surprised. 

So  they  went  to  the  play-room  and  painted 
their  shields.  The  shields  were  made  of  the 
bark  of  hemlock-trees.  Ladislaus  chipped  off 
the  rough  bark  till  the  shield  was  white,  and 
made  on  the  place  the  best  sky-lark  he  could 
paint  there.  And  Bela  watched  him,  and 
chipped  off  the  rough  bark  from  his  shield,  and 
said,  "  You  paint  so  well,  now  paint  my  water- 
rat  for  me."  "  No,"  said  Ladislaus,  though  he 
was  very  good-natured,  "  I  cannot  paint  it  well. 
You  must  paint  it  yourself."  And  Bela  did  so. 


192  THE   TWO  PRINCES. 

II. 

So  the  boys  both  grew  up,  and  one  became 
King  of  Hungary,  and  one  was  the  King  of  the 
Bohemians.  And  King  Ladislaus  carried  on 
his  banner  the  picture  of  a  sky-lark ;  and  the 
ladies  of  the  land  embroidered  sky-larks  for  the 
scarfs  and  for  the  pennons  of  the  soldiers,  and 
for  the  motto  of  the  banner  were  the  Latin 
words  "  Propior  Deo,"  which  mean  "Nearer  to 
God."  And  King  Bela  carried  the  water-rat 
for  his  cognizance ;  and  the  ladies  of  his  land 
embroidered  water-rats  for  the  soldiers ;  and 
his  motto  was  "  Enough." 

And  in  these  times  a  holy  man  from  Palestine 
came  through  all  the  world ;  and  he  told  how 
the  pilgrims  to  the  tomb  of  Christ  were  beaten 
and  starved  by  the  Saracens,  and  how  many  of 
them  were  dying  in  dungeons.  And  he  begged 
the  princes  and  the  lords  and  ladies,  for  the 
love  of  God  and  the  love  of  Christ,  that  they 
would  come  and  rescue  these  poor  people,  and 
secure  the  pilgrims  in  all  coming  time.  And 
King  Ladislaus  said  to  his  people,  "  "We  will  do 
the  best  we  can,  and  serve  God  as  He  shows  us 
how !  "  And  the  people  said,  "  We  will  do  the 


THE   TWO   PRINCES.  193 

best  we  can,  and  save  the  people  of  Christ  from 
the  infidel ! "  And  they  all  came  together  to 
the  place  of  arms  ;  and  the  King  chose  a  hun 
dred  of  the  bravest  and  healthiest  of  the  young 
men,  all  of  whom  told  the  truth,  and  no  one  of 
whohi  was  afraid  to  die,  and  they  marched 
with  him  to  the  land  of  Christ ;  and  as  they 
marched  they  sang,  "  Propior  Deo,"  —  "  Nearer 
to  Thee." 

And  Peter  the  Hermit  went  to  Bohemia,  and 
told  the  story  of  the  cruel  Saracens  and  the 
sufferings  of  the  pilgrims  to  King  Bela  and  his 
people.  And  the  King  said,  "  Is  it  far  away  ?  " 
And  the  Hermit  said,  "  Far,  far  away."  And 
the  King  said,  "  Ah,  well,  —  they  must  get  out 
as  they  got  in.  We  will  take  care  of  Bohemia." 
So  the  Hermit  went  on  to  Saxony,  to  tell  his 
story. 

And  King  Ladislaus  and  his  hundred  true 
young  men  rode  and  rode  day  by  day,  and  came 
to  the  Mount  of  Olives  just  in  time  to  be  at  the 
side  of  the  great  King  Godfrey,  when  he  broke 
the  Paynim's  walls,  and  dashed  into  the  city  of 
Jerusalem.  And  King  Ladislaus  and  his  men 
rode  together  along  the  Way  of  Tears,  where 
Christ  bore  the  cross-beam  upon  his  shoulder, 

13 


194  THE   TWO   PRINCES. 

and  he  sat  on  the  stone  where  the  cross  had 
been  reared,  and  he  read  the  gospel  through 
again  •  and  there  he  prayed  his  God  that  he 
might  always  bear  his  cross  bravely,  and  that, 
like  the  Lord  Jesus,  he  might  never  be  afraid 
to  die. 


III. 

AND  when  they  had  all  come  home  to  Hun 
gary,  their  time  hung  very  heavy  on  their 
hands.  And  the  young  men  said  to  the  King, 
"  Lead  us  to  war  against  the  Finns,  or  lead  us 
to  war  against  the  Russ." 

But  the  King  said,  "No I  if  they  spare  our 
people,  we  spare  their  people.  Let  us  have 
peace."  And  he  called  the  young  men  who 
had  fought  with  him,  and  he  said,  "  The  time 
hangs  heavy  with  us ;  let  us  build  a  temple  here 
to  the  living  God,  and  to  the  honor  of  his  Son. 
We  will  carve  on  its  walls  the  story  we  have 
seen,  and  while  we  build  we  will  remember  Zion 
and  the  Way  of  Tears." 

And  the  young  men  said,  "  We  are  not  used 
to  building." 

*»  Nor  am   I,"  said  the  King ;  "  but  let  us 


THE   TWO   PRINCES.  195 

build,  and  build  as  best  we  can,  and  give  to  God 
the  best  we  have  and  the  best  we  know." 

So  they  dug  the  deep  trenches  for  the  founda 
tions,  and  they  sent  north  and  south,  and  east 
and  west  for  the  wisest  builders  who  loved  the 
Lord  Christ ;  and  the  builders  came,  and  the 
carvers  came,  and  the  young  men  learned  to 
use  the  chisel  and  the  hammer ;  and  the  great 
Cathedral  grew  year  by  year,  as  a  pine-tree  in 
the  forest  grows  above  the  birches  and  the  yew- 
trees  on  the  ground. 

And"  once  King  Bela  came  to  visit  his  kins 
man,  and  they  rode  out  to  see  the  builders. 
And  King  Ladislaus  dismounted  from  his  horse, 
and  asked  Bela  to  dismount,  and  gave  to  him  a 
chisel  and  a  hammer. 

"No,"  said  the  King  Bela,  "it  will  hurt  my 
hands.  In  my  land  we  have  workmen  whom 
we  pay  to  do  these  things.  But  I  like  to  see 
you  work." 

So  he  sat  upon  his  horse  till  dinner-time,  and 
he  went  home. 

And  year  by  year  the  Cathedral  grew.  And 
a  thousand  pinnacles  were  built  upon  the 
towers  and  on  the  roof  and  along  the  walls  ; 
and  on  each  pinnacle  there  fluttered  a  ^ohleu 


196  THE  TWO   PKINCES. 

sky-lark.  And  on  the  altar  in  the  Cathedral 
was  a  scroll  of  crimson,  and  on  the  crimson 
scroll  were  letters  of  gold,  and  the  letters  were 
in  the  Latin  language,  and  said  "  Propior  Deo," 
and  on  a  blue  scroll  underneath,  in  the  language 
of  the  people  they  were  translated,  and  it  said, 
"  Nearer  to  Thee." 

IV. 

AND  another  Hermit  came,  and  he  told  the 
King  that  the  Black  Death  was  ravaging  the 
cities  of  the  East ;  that  half  the  people  of  Con 
stantinople  were  dead;  that  the  great  fair  at 
Adrianople  was  closed;  that  the  ships  on  the 
Black  Sea  had  no  sailors ;  and  that  there  would 
be  no  food  for  the  people  on  the  lower  river. 

And  the  King  said,  "  Is  the  Duke  dead,  whom 
we  saw  at  Bucharest ;  is  the  Emperor  dead,  who 
met  me  at  Constantinople  ?  " 

"  No,  your  Grace,"  said  the  Hermit,  "  it 
pleases  the  Lord  that  in  the  Black  Death  only 
those  die  who  live  in  hovels  and  in  towns.  The 
Lord  has  spared  those  who  live  in  castles  and  in 
palaces." 

"  Then,"  said  King  Ladislaus,  "  I  will  live  as 


THE   TWO    PRINCES.  197 

my  people  live,  and  I  will  die  as  my  people  die. 
The  Lord  Jesus  had  no  pillow  for  his  head,  and 
no  house  for  his  lodging ;  and  as  the  least  of 
his  brethren  fares  so  will  I  fare,  and  as  I  fare  so 
shall  they." 

So  the  King  and  the  hundred  braves  pitched 
their  tents  on  the  high  land  above  the  old  town, 
around  the  new  Cathedral,  and  the  Queen  and 
the  ladies  of  the  court  went  with  them.  And 
day  by  day  the  King  and  the  Queen  and  the 
hundred  braves  and  their  hundred  ladies  went 
up  and  down  the  filthy  wynds  and  courts 
of  the  city,  and  they  said  to  the  poor  people 
there,  "  Come,  live  as  we  live,  and  die  as  we 
die." 

And  the  people  left  the  holes  of  pestilence 
and  came  and  lived  in  the  open  air  of  God. 

And  when  the  people  saw  that  the  King  fared 
as  they  fared,  the  people  said,  "  We  also  will 
seek  God  as  the  King  seeks  Him,  and  will  serve 
Him  as  he  serves  Him." 

And  day  by  day  they  found  others  who  had 
no  homes  fit  for  Christian  men,  and  brought 
them  upon  the  high  land  and  built  all  together 
their  tents  and  booths  and  tabernacles,  open  to 
the  sun  and  light,  and  to  the  smile  and  kiss 


198  THE   TWO   PKINCES. 

and  blessing  of  the  fresh  air  of  God.     And  there 
grew  a  new  and  beautiful  city  there. 

And  so  it  was,  that  when  the  Black  Death 
passed  from  the  East  to  the  West,  the  Angel 
of  Death  left  the  city  of  Buda  on  one  side,  and 
the  people  never  saw  the  pestilence  with  their 
'eyes.  The  Angel  of  Death  passed  by  them,  and 
rested  upon  the  cities  of  Bohemia. 

V. 

AND  King  Ladislaus  grew  old.  His  helmet 
seemed  to  him  more  heavy.  His  sleep  seemed 
to  him  more  coy.  But  he  had  little  care,  for  he 
had  a  loving  wife,  and  he  had  healthy,  noble 
sons  and  daughters,  who  loved  God,  and  who 
told  the  truth,  and  who  were  not  afraid  to  die. 

But  one  day,  in  his  happy  prosperity,  there 
came  to  him  a  messenger  running,  who  said  in 
the  Council,  "  Your  Grace,  the  Red  Russians 
have  crossed  the  Red  River  of  the  north,  and 
they  are  marching  with  their  wives  and  their 
children  with  their  men  of  arms  in  front,  and 
their  wagons  behind,  and  they  say  they  will 
find  a  land  nearer  the  sun,  and  to  this  land  are 
they  coming." 


THE   TWO   PKINCES.  199 

And  the  old  King  smiled ;  and  he  said  to 
those  that  were  left  of  the  hundred  brave  men 
who  took  the  cross  with  him,  "  Now  we  will  see 
if  our  boys  could  have  fought  at  Godfrey's  side. 
For  us  it  matters  little.  One  way  or  another 
way  we  shall  come  nearer  to  God." 

And  the  armorers  mended  the  old  armor,  and 
the  young  men  girded  on  swords  which  had 
never  been  tried  in  fight,  and  the  pennons  that 
they  bore  were  embroidered  by  their  sweethearts 
and  sisters  as  in  the  old  days  of  the  Crusades, 
and  with  the  same  device  of  a  sky-lark  in  mid- 
heaven,  and  the  motto,  "  Nearer,  my  God,  to 
Thee." 

And  there  came  from  the  great  Cathedral  the 
wise  men  who  had  come  from,  all  the  lands. 
They  found  the  King,  and  they  said  to  him, 
"  Your  Grace,  we  know  how  to  build  the  new 
defences  for  the  land,  and  we  will  guard  the 
river  ways,  that  the  barbarians  shall  never  enter 
them." 

And  when  the  people  knew  that,  the  Ked 
Russians  were  on  the  way,  they  met  in  the 
square  and  marched  to  the  palace,  and  Robert 
the  Smith  mounted  the  steps  of  the  palace  and 
called  the  King.  And  he  said,  "  The  people 


200  THE   TWO  PRINCES. 

are  here  to  bid  the  King  be  of  good  heart.  The 
people  bid  me  say  that  they  will  die  for  their 
King  and  for  his  land." 

And  the  King  took  from  his  wife's  neck  the 
blue  ribbon  that  she  wore,  with  a  golden  sky 
lark  on  it,  and  bound  it  round  the  blacksmith's 
arm,  and  he  said,  "  If  I  die,  it  is  nothing ;  if  I 
live,  it  is  nothing ;  that  is  in  God's  hand.  But 
whether  we  live  or  die,  let  us  draw  as  near  Him 
as  we  may." 

And  the  Blacksmith  Robert  turned  to  the 
people,  and  with  his  loud  voice,  told  what  the 
King  had  said. 

And  the  people  answered  in  the  shout  which 
the  Hungarians  shout  to  this  day,  "  Let  us  die 
for  our  king !  Let  us  die  for  our  king  I " 

And  the  King  called  the  Queen  hastily,  and 
they  and  their  children  led  the  host  to  the  great 
Cathedral. 

And  the  old  priest  Stephen,  who  was  ninety 
years  old,  stood  at  the  altar,  and  he  read  the 
gospel  where  it  says,  "  Fear  not,  little  flock,  it 
is  your  Father's  good  pleasure  to  give  you  the 
kingdom." 

And  he  read  the  other  gospel  where  the  Lord 
says,  "  And  I,  if  I  be  lifted  up,  will  draw  all 


THE   TWO   PRINCES .  201 

men  unto  me."  And  he  read  the  epistle  where 
it  says,  "  No  man  liveth  to  himself,  and  no  man 
dieth  to  himself."  And  he  chanted  the  psalm, 
"  The  Lord  is  my  rock,  my  fortress,  and  my 
deliverer." 

And  fifty  thousand  men,  with  one  heart  and 
one  voice,  joined  with  him.  And  the  King 
joined,  and  the  Queen  to  sing,  "  The  Lord  is 
my  rock,  my  fortress,  and  my  deliverer." 

And  they  marched  from  the  Cathedral,  sing 
ing  in  the  language  of  the  country,  "  Propior 
Deo,"  which  is  to  say  in  our  tongue,  "  Nearer, 
my  God,  to  Thee." 

And  the  aged  braves  who  had  fought  with 
Godfrey,  and  the  younger  men  who  had  learned 
of  arms  in  the  University,  went  among  the 
people  and  divided  them  into  companies  for 
the  war.  And  Robert  the  Blacksmith,  and  all 
the  guild  of  the  blacksmiths,  and  of  the  braziers, 
and  of  the  coppersmiths,  and  of  the  whitesmiths, 
even  the  goldsmiths,  and  the  silversmiths,  made 
weapons  for  the  war ;  and  the  masons  and  the 
carpenters,  and  the  ditchers  and  delvers  marched 
out  with  the  cathedral  builders  to  the  narrow 
passes  of  the  river,  and  built  new  the  fortresses. 

And  the  Lady  Constance  and  her  daughters, 


202  TJTE   TWO  PRINCES. 

and  every  lady  in  the  land,  went  to  the  churches 
and  the  convents,  and  threw  them  wide  open. 
And  in  the  kitchens  they  baked  bread  for  the 
soldiers  ;  and  in  the  churches  they  spread 
couches  for  the  sick  or  for  the  wounded. 

And  when  the  Red  Russians  came  in  their 
host,  there  was  not  a  man,  or  woman,  or  child 
in  all  Hungary  but  was  in  the  place  to  which 
God  had  called  him,  and  was  doing  his  best  in 
his  place  for  his  God,  for  the  Church  of  Christ, 
and  for  his  brothers  and  sisters  of  the  land. 

And  the  host  of  the  Red  Russians  was  turned 
aside,  as  at  the  street  corner  you  have  seen  the 
dirty  water  of  a  gutter  turned  aside  by  the  curb 
stone.  They  fought  one  battle  against  the 
Hungarian  host,  and  were  driven  as  the  black 
birds  are  driven  by  the  falcons.  And  they 
gathered  themselves  and  swept  westward ;  and 
came  down  upon  the  passes  to  Bohemia. 

And  there  were  no  fortresses  at  the  entrance 
to  Bohemia ;  for  King  Bela  had  no  learned  men 
who  loved  him.  And  there  was  no  army  in  the 
plains  of  Bohemia;  for  his  people  had  been 
swept  away  in  the  pestilence.  And  there  were 
no  brave  men  who  had  fought  with  Godfrey, 
and  knew  the  art  of  arms,  for  in  those  old  days 


THE   TWO  PRINCES.  203 

the  Bang  had  said,  "It  is  far  away;  and  we 
have  '  enough '  in  Bohemia." 

So  the  Red  Russians,  who  call  themselves  the 
Szechs,  took  his  land  from  him ;  and  they  live 
there  till  this  day.  And  the  King,  without  a 
battle,  fled  from  the  back-door  of  his  palace, 
in  the  disguise  of  a  charcoal-man ;  and  he  left 
his  queen  and  his  daughters  to  be  cinder-girls 
in  the  service  of  the  Chief  of  the  Red  Russians. 

And  the  false  charcoal-man  walked  by  day, 
and  walked  by  night,  till  he  found  refuge  in  the 
castle  of  the  King  Ladislaus ;  and  he  met  him 
in  the  old  school-room  where  they  read  the 
fables  together.  And  he  remembered  how  the 
water-rat  came  to  the  home  of  the  beavers. 

And  he  said  to  King  Ladislaus,  — 

"  Ah,  me !  do  you  remember  when  we  were 
boys  together  ?  Do  you  remember  the  fable  of 
the  Sky-lark,  and  the  fable  of  the  Water-rat  ?  " 

"  I  remember  both,"  said  the  King.  And  he 
was  silent. 

"  God  has  been  very  kind  to  you,"  said  the 
beggar ;  "  and  He  has  been  very  hard  to  me." 

And  the  King  said  nothing. 

But  the  old  priest  Stephen,  said,  — 

"  God  is  always  kind.     But  God  will  not  give 


204  THE  TWO   PEINCES. 

us  other  fruit  than  we  sow  seed  for.  The  King 
here  has  tried  to  serve  God  as  he  knew  how ; 
with  one  single  eye  he  has  looked  on  the  world 
of  God,  and  he  has  made  the  best  choice  he 
knew.  And  God  has  given  him  what  he  thought 
not  of :  brave  men  for  his  knights ;  wise  men 
for  his  council ;  a  free  and  loving  people  for  his 
army.  And  you  have  not  looked  with  a  single 
eye ;  your  eye  was  darkened.  You  saw  only 
what  served  yourself.  And  you  said,  '  This  is 
enough ; '  and  you  had  no  brave  men  for  your 
knights ;  no  wise  men  for  your  council ;  no 
people  for  your  army.  You  chose  to  look  down, 
and  to  take  a  selfish  brute  for  your  adviser. 
And  he  has  led  you  so  far.  We  choose  to  look 
up ;  to  draw  nearer  God ;  and  where  He  leads 
we  follow." 

Then  King  Ladislaus  ordered  that  in  the  old 
school-room  a  bed  should  be  spread  for  Bela ; 
and  that  every  day  his  breakfast  and  his  dinner 
and  his  supper  should  be  served  to  him ;  and  he 
lived  there  till  he  died. 


THE  STORY   OF   OELLO. 


f  'XNCE  upon  a  time  there  was  a  young  giil, 
^^^  who  had  the  pretty  name  of  Oello.  I  say, 
once  upon  a  time,  because  I  do  not  know  when 
the  time  was,  —  nor  do  I  know  what  the  place 
was,  —  though  my  story,  in  the  main,  is  a  true 
story.  I  do  not  mean  that  I  sat  by  and  saw 
Oello  when  she  wove  and  when  she  spun.  But 
I  know  she  did  weave  and  did  spin.  I  do  not 
mean  that  I  heard  her  speak  the  word  I  tell  of ; 
for  it  was  many,  many  hundred  years  ago. 
But  I  do  know  that  she  must  have  said  some 
such  words ;  for  I  know  many  of  the  things 
which  she  did,  and  much  of  what  kind  of  girl 
she  was. 

She  grew  up  like  other  girls  in  her  country. 
She  did  not  know  how  to  read.  None  of  them 
knew  how  to  read.  But  she  knew  how  to 
braid  straw,  and  to  make  fish-nets  and  to  catch 


206  THE   STORY   OF   OELLO. 

fish.  She  did  not  know  how  to  spell.  Indeed, 
in  that  country  they  had  no  letters.  But  she 
knew  how  to  split  open  the  fish  she  had  caught, 
how.  to  clean  them,  how  to  broil  them  on 
the  coals,  and  how  to  eat  them  neatly.  She 
had  never  studied  the  "  analysis  of  her  lan 
guage."  But  she  knew  how  to  use  it  like  a 
lady ;  that  is,  prettily,  simply,  without  pretence, 
and  always  truly.  She  could  sing  her  baby 
brother  to  sleep.  She  could  tell  stories  to  her 
sisters  all  day  long.  And  she  and  they  were 
not  afraid  when  evening  came,  or  when  they 
were  in  any  trouble,  to  say  a  prayer  aloud  to 
the  good  God.  So  they  got  along,  although 
they  could  not  analyze  their  language.  She 
knew  no  geography.  She  could  count  her  fin 
gers,  and  the  stars  in  the  Southern  Cross.  She 
had  never  seen  Orion,  or  the  stars  in  the  Great 
Bear,  or  the  Pole-Star. 

Oello  was  very  young  when  she  married  a 
young  kinsman,  with  whom  she  had  grown  up 
since  they  were  babies.  Nobody  knows  much 
about  him.  But  he  loved  her  and  she  loved 
him.  And  when  morning  came  they  were  not 
afraid  to  pray  to  God  together,  —  and  when 
night  came  she  asked  her  husband  to  forgive  her 


THE   STORY  OF   OELLO.  207 

if  she  had  troubled  him,  and  he  asked  her  to 
forgive  him,  —  so  that  their  worries  and  trials 
never  Listed  out  the  day.  And  they  lived  a 
very  happy  life,  till  they  were  very  old  and 
died. 

There  is  a  bad  gap  in  the  beginning  of  their 
history.  I  do  not  know  how  it  happened.  But 
the  first  I  knew  of  them,  they  had  left  their 
old  home  and  were  wandering  alone  on  foot 
toward  the  South.  Sometimes  I  have  thought 
a  great  earthquake  had  wrecked  their  old  happy 
home.  Sometimes  I  have  thought  there  was 
some  horrid  pestilence,  or  fire.  No  matter  what 
happened,  something  happened,  —  so  that  Oello 
and  her  husband,  of  a  hot,  very  hot  day,  were 
alone  under  a  forest  of  laurels  mixed  with  palms, 
with  bright  flowering  orchids  on  them,  looking 
like  a  hundred  butterflies  ;  ferns,  half  as  high  as 
the  church  is,  tossing  over  them  ;  nettles  as  large 
as  trees,  and  tangled  vines,  threading  through  the 
whole.  They  were  tired,  oh,  how  tired !  hun 
gry,  oh,  how  hungry  !  and  hot  and  foot-sore. 

"  I  wish  so  we  were  out  of  this  hole,"  said  he 
to  her,  "  and  yet  I  am  afraid  of  the  people  we 
shall  find  when  we  come  d^wn  to  the  lake 
side." 


208  THE   STORY  OF   OELLO. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Oello,  "  why  they 
should  want  to  hurt  us." 

"  I  do  not  know  why  they  should  want  to," 
said  he,  "  but  I  am  afraid  they  will  hurt  us." 

"But  we  do  not  want  to  hurt  them,"  said 
she.  "  For  my  part,  all  I  want  is  a  shelter  to 
live  under ;  and  I  will  help  them  take  care  of 
their  children,  and 

'  I  will  spin  their  flax, 

And  weave  their  thread, 
And  pound  their  corn, 
And  bake  their  bread.' " 

"How  will  you  tell  them  that  you  will  do 
this  ?  "  said  he. 

"  I  will  do  it,"  said  OeUo,  "  and  that  will  be 
better  than  telling  them." 

"  But  do  not  you  just  wish,"  said  he,  "  that 
you  could  speak  five  little  words  of  their  Ian- 
gauge,  to  say  to  them  that  we  come  as  friends, 
and  not  as  enemies  ?  " 

Oello  laughed  very  heartily.  "  Enemies," 
said  she,  "  terrible  enemies,  who  have  two  sticks 
for  their  weapons,  two  old  bags  for  their  stores, 
and  cotton  clothes  for  their  armor.  I  do  not 
believe  more  than  half  the  army  will  turn,  out 
against  us."  So  Oello  pulled  out  the  potatoes 


THE   STORY   OF   OELLO.  209 

from  the  ashes,  and  found  they  were  baked ; 
she  took  a  little  salt  from  her  haversack  or  scrip, 
and  told  her  husband  that  dinner  would  be 
ready,  if  he  would  only  bring  some  water.  He 
pretended  to  groan,  but  went,  and  came  in  a 
few  minutes  with  two  gourds  full,  and  they 
made  a  very  merry  meal. 

The  same  evening  they  came  cautiously  down 
on  the  beautiful  meadow  land  which  surrounded 
the  lake  they  had  seen.  It  is  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  countries  in  the  world.  It  was  an 
hour  before  sunset,  —  the  hour,  I  suppose,  when 
all  countries  are  most  beautiful.  Oello  and  her 
husband  came  joyfully  down  the  hill,  through  a 
little  track  the  llamas  had  made  toward  the  water, 
wondering  at  the  growth  of  the  wild  grasses, 
and,  indeed,  the  freshness  of  all  the  green ; 
when  they  were  startled  by  meeting  a  horde 
of  the  poor,  naked,  half-starved  Indians,  who 
were  just  as  much  alarmed  to  meet  with  them. 

I  do  not  think  that  the  most  stupid  of  them 
could  have  supposed  Oello  an  enemy,  nor  her 
husband.  For  they  stepped  cheerfully  down 
the  path,  waving  boughs  of  fresh  cinchona  as 
tokens  of  peace,  and  looking  kindly  and  pleas- 
14 


210  THE   STORY    OF   OELLO. 

antly  on  the  poor  Indians,  as  I  believe  nobody 
had  looked  on  them  before.  There  were  fifty 
of  the  savages,  but  it  was  true  that  they  were 
as  much  afraid  of  the  two  young  Northerners  as 
if  they  had  been  an  army.  They  saw  them 
coming  down  the  hill,  with  the  western  sun 
behind  them,  and  one  of  the  women  cried  out, 
"  They  are  children  of  the  sun,  they  are  chil 
dren  of  the  sun ! "  and  Oello  and  her  husband 
looked  so  as  if  they  had  come  from  a  better 
world  that  all  the  other  savages  believed  it. 

But  the  two  young  people  came  down  so 
kindly  and  quickly,  that  the  Indian  women 
could  not  well  run  away.  And  when  Oello 
caught  one  of  the  little  babies  up,  and  tossed  it 
in  her  arms,  and  fondled  it,  and  made  it  laugh, 
the  little  girl's  mother  laughed  too.  And  when 
they  had  all  once  laughed  together,  peace  was 
made  among  them  all,  and  Oello  saw  where  the 
Indian  women  had  been  lying,  and  what  their 
poor  little  shelters  were,  and  she  led  the  way 
there,  and  sat  down  on  a  log  that  had  fallen 
there,  and  called  the  children  round  her,  and 
began  teaching  them  a  funny  game  with  a  bit 
of  crimson  cord.  Nothing  pleases  savage  people 
or  tame  people  more  than  attention  to  their 


THE   STORY  OF   OELLO.  211 

children,  and  in  less  time  than  I  have  been  tell 
ing  this  they  were  all  good  friends.  The  Indian 
women  produced  supper.  Pretty  poor  supper 
it  was.  Some  fresh-water  clams  from  the  lake, 
some  snails  which  Oello  really  shuddered  at, 
but  some  bananas  which  were  very  nice,  and 
some  ulloco,  a  root  Oello  had  never  seen  before, 
and  which  she  thought  sickish.  But  she  acted 
on  her  motto.  "  I  will  do  the  best  I  can,"  she 
had  said  all  along ;  so  she  ate  and  drank,  as  if 
she  had  always  been  used  to  raw  snails  and  to 
ulloco,  and  made  the  wild  women  laugh  by  try 
ing  to  imitate  the  names  of  the  strange  food. 
In  a  few  minutes  after  supper  the  sun  set. 
There  is  no  twilight  in  .that  country.  When 
the  sun  goes  down, 

"  Like  battle  target  red,  — 
He  rushes  to  his  burning  bed, 
Dyes  the  whole  wave  with  ruddy  light, 
Then  sinks  at  once,  and  all  is  night." 

The  savage  people  showed  the  strangers  a  poor 
little  booth  to  sleep  in,  and  went  away  to  their 
own  lairs,  with  many  prostrations,  for  they  really 
thought  them  "  children  of  the  sun." 

Oello  and  her  husband  laughed  very  heartily 
when  they  knew  they  were  alone.     Oello  made 


212  THE   STORY  OF   OELLO. 

him  promise  to  go  in  the  morning  early  for 
potatoes,  and  oca,  and  mashua,  which  are  two 
other  tubers  like  potatoes  which  grow  there. 
"And  we  will  show  them,"  said  she,  "how  to 
cook  them."  For  they  had  seen  by  the  evening 
feast,  that  the  poor  savage  people  had  no  knowl 
edge  of  the  use  of  fire.  So,  early  in  the  morn 
ing,  he  went  up  a  little  way  on  the  lake  shore, 
and  returned  with  strings  of  all  these  roots,  and 
with  another  string  of  fish  he  had  caught  in 
a  brook  above.  And  when  the  savage  people 
waked  and  came  to  Cello's  hut,  they  found  her 
and  her  husband  just  starting  their  fire,  —  a  feat 
these  people  had  never  seen  before. 

He  had  cut  with  his  copper  knife  a  little 
groove  in  some  soft  palm-wood,  and  he  had 
fitted  in  it  a  round  piece  of  iron-wood,  and 
round  the  iron-wood  had  bound  a  bow-string, 
and  while  Oello  held  the  palm-wood  firm,  he 
made  the  iron-wood  fly  round  and  round  and 
round,  till  the  pith  of  the  palm  smoked,  and 
smoked,  and  at  last  a  flake  of  the  pith  caught 
fire,  and  then  another  and  another,  and  Oello 
dropped  other  flakes  upon  these,  and  blew  them 
gently,  and  fed  them  with  dry  leaves,  till  they 
were  all  in  a  blaze. 


THE  STORY   OF   OELLO.  213 

The  savage  people  looked  on  with  wonder  and 
terror.  They  cried  out  when  they  saw  the 
blaze,  "  They  are  children  of  the  sun,  —  they  are 
children  of  the  sun !  "  —  and  ran  away.  Oello 
and  her  husband  did  not  know  what  they  said, 
and  went  on  broiling  the  fish  and  baking  the 
potatoes,  and  the  mashua,  and  the  oca,  and  the 
ulloco. 

And  when  they  were  ready,  Oello  coaxed 
some  of  the  children  to  come  back,  and  next 
their  mothers  came  and  next  the  men.  But 
still  they  said,  "  They  are  children  of  the  sun." 
And  when  they  ate  of  the  food  that  had  been 
cooked  for  them,  they  said  it  was  the  food  of  the 
immortals. 

Now,  in  Oello's  home,  this  work  of  making 
the  fire  from  wood  had  been  called  menial  work, 
and  was  left  to  servants  only.  But  even  the 
princes  of  that  land  were  taught  never  to  order 
another  to  do  what  they  could  not  do  them 
selves.  And  thus  it  happened  that  the  two 
young  travellers  could  do  it  so  well.  And  thus 
it  was,  that,  because  they  did  what  they  could, 
the  savage  people  honored  them  with  such  ex 
ceeding  honor,  and  because  they  did  the  work 
of  servants  they  called  them  gods.  As  it  is 


214  THE   STORY   OF   OELLO. 

written  :  "  He  who  is  greatest  among  you  shall 
be  your  servant." 

And  this  was  much  the  story  of  that  day  and 
many.  days.  While  her  husband  went  off  with 
the  men,  taught  them  how  he  caught  the  fish, 
and  how  they  could  catch  huanacos,  Oello  sat  in 
the  shade  with  the  children,  who  were  never 
tired  of  pulling  at  the  crimson  cord  around  her 
waist,  and  at  the  tassels  of  her  head-dress.  All 
savage  children  are  curious  about  the  dress  of 
their  visitors.  So  it  was  easy  for  Oello  to  per 
suade  them  to  go  with  her  and  pick  tufts  of  wild 
cotton,  till  they  had  quite  a  store  of  it,  and  then 
to  teach  them  to  spin  it  on  distaffs  she  made  for 
them  from  laurel-wood,  and  at  last  to  braid  it 
and  to  knit  it,  —  till  at  last  one  night,  when  the 
men  came  home,  Oello  led  out  thirty  of  the 
children  in  quite  a  grand  procession,  dressed  all 
of  them  in  pretty  cotton  suits  they  had  knit  for 
themselves,  instead  of  the  filthy,  greasy  skins 
they  had  always  worn  before.  This  was  a  great 
triumph  for  Oello  ;  but  when  the  people  would 
gladly  have  worshipped  her,  she  only  said,  "  I 
did  what  I  could,  —  I  did  what  I  could,  —  say  no 
more,  say  no  more." 

And  as  the  year  passed  by,  she  and  her  hus- 


THE   STOEY  OF   OELLO.  215 

band  taught  the  poor  people  how,  if  they  would 
only  plant  the  maize,  they  could  have  all  they 
wanted  in  the  winter,  and  if  they  planted  the 
roots  of  the  ulloco,  and  the  oca,  and  the  mashua, 
and  the  potato,  they  would  have  all  they  needed 
of  them  ;  how  they  might  make  long  fish- ways 
for  the  fish,  and  pitfalls  for  the  llama.  And  they 
learned  the  language  of  the  poor  people,  and 
taught  them  the  language  to  which  they  them 
selves  were  born.  And  year  by  year  their  homes 
grew  neater  and  more  cheerful.  And  year  by 
year  the  children  were  stronger  and  better. 
And  year  by  year  the  world  In  that  part  of  it 
was  more  and  more  subdued  to  the  will  and 
purpose  of  a  good  God.  And  whenever  Manco, 
Oello's  husband,  was  discouraged,  she  always 
said,  "  "We  will  do  the  best  we  can,"  and  always 
it  proved  that  that  was  all  that  a  good  God 
wanted  them  to  do. 

It  was  from  the  truth  and  steadiness  of  those 
two  people,  Manco  and  Oello,  that  the  great 
nation  of  Peru  was  raised  up  from  a  horde 
of  savages,  starving  in  the  mountains,  to  one 
of  the  most  civilized  and  happy  nations  of 
their  times.  Unfortunately  for  their  descend 
ants,  they  did  not  learn  the  use  of  iron  or  gun- 


216  THE   STORY   OF   OELLO. 

powder,  so  that  the  cruel  Spaniards  swept  them 
and  theirs  away.  But  for  hundreds  of  years 
they  lived  peacefully  and  happily,  —  growing 
more  and  more  civilized  with  every  year,  be 
cause  the  young  Oello  and  her  husband  Manco 
had  done  what  they  could  for  them. 

They  did  not  know  much.  But  what  they 
knew  they  could  do.  They  were  not,  so  far  as 
we  know,  skilful  in  talking.  But  they  were 
cheerful  in  acting. 

They  did  not  hide  their  light  under  a  bushel. 
They  made  it  shine  on  all  that  came  around. 
Their  duties  were  the  humblest,  only  making  a 
fire  in  the  morning,  cleaning  potatoes  and  cook 
ing  them,  spinning,  braiding,  twisting,  and  weav 
ing.  This  was  the  best  Oello  could  do.  She 
did  that,  and  in  doing  it  she  reared  an  empire. 
We  can  contrast  her  life  with  that  of  the 
savages  around  her.  As  we  can  see  a  drop  of 
blood  when  it  falls  into  a  cup  of  water,  we  can 
see  how  that  one  life  swayed  theirs.  If  she  had 
lived  among  her  kindred,  and  done  at  home 
these  simple  things,  we  should  never  have  heard 
her  name.  But  none  the  less  would  she  have 
done  them.  None  the  less,  year  in  and  year  out, 
century  in  and  century  out,  would  that  sweet, 


THE   STORY   OF   OELLO. 


217 


loving,  true,  unselfish  life  have  told  in  God's 
service.  And  he  would  have  known  it,  though 
you  and  I — who  are  we?  —  had  never  heard 
her  name  ! 

Forgotten !  do  not  ever  think  that  anything 
is  forgotten  I 


LOVE    IS    THE    WHOLE. 


A  STORY  FOR  CHILDREN. 


'THHIS  is  a  story  about  some  children  who 
were  living  together  in  a  Western  State, 
in  a  little  house  on  the  prairie,  nearly  two  miles 
from  any  other.  There  were  three  boys  and 
three  girls  ;  the  oldest  girl  was  seventeen,  and 
her  oldest  brother  a  year  younger.  Their 
mother  had  died  two  or  three  years  before,  and 
now  their  father  grew  sick,  —  more  sick  and 
more,  and  died  also.  The  children  were  taking 
the  best  care  they  could  of  him,  wondering  and 
watching.  But  no  care  could  do  much,  and  so 
he  told  them.  He  told  them  all  that  he  should 
not  live  long  ;  but  that  when  he  died  he  should 
not  be  far  from  them,  and  should  be  with  their 
dear  mother.  "  Remember,"  he  said,  "  to  love 
each  other.  Be  kind  to  each  other.  Stick 
together,  if  you  can.  Or,  if  you  separate,  love 


LOVE  IS   THE   WHOLE.  219 

one  another  as  if  you  were  together."  He  did 
not  say  any  more  then.  He  lay  still  awhile, 
with  his  eyes  closed ;  but  every  now  and  then 
a  sweet  smile  swept  over  his  face,  so  that  they 
knew  he  was  awake.  Then  he  roused  up  once 
more,  and  said,  "  Love  is  the  whole,  George ; 
love  is  the  whole,"  —  and  so  he  died. 

I  have  no  idea  that  the  children,  in  the  midst 
of  their  grief  and  loneliness,  took  in  his  mean 
ing.  But  afterwards  they  remembered  it  again 
and  again,  and  found  out  why  he  said  it  to 
them. 

Any  of  you  would  have  thought  it  a  queer 
little  house.  It  was  not  a  log  cabin.  They 
had  not  many  logs  there.  But  it -wa9-«O"larger 
than  the  log  cabin  which  General  Grant  is  build 
ing  in  the  picture.  There  was  a  little  entry- 
way  at  one  end,  and  two  rooms  opening  on  the 
right  as  you  went.  A  flight  of  steps  went  up 
into  the  loft,  and  in  the  loft  the  boys  slept  in 
two  beds.  This  was  all.  But  if  they  had  no 
rooms  for  servants,  on  the  other  hand  they  had 
no  servants  for  rooms.  If  they  had  no  hot- 
water  pipes,  on  the  other  hand  a  large  kettle 
hung  on  the  crane  above  the  kitchen  fire,  and 
there  was  but  a  very  short  period  of  any  day 


220  LOVE   IS   THE   WHOLE. 

that  one  could  not  dip  out  hot  water.  They  had 
no  gas-pipes  laid  through  the  house.  But  they 
went  to  bed  the  earlier,  and  were  the  more  sure 
to  enjoy  the  luxury  of  the  great  morning  illumi 
nation  by  the  sun.  They  lost  but  few  steps  in 
going  from  room  to  room.  They  were  never 
troubled  for  want  of  fresh  air.  They  had  no 
door-bell,  so  no  guest  was  ever  left  waiting  in 
the  cold.  And  though  they  had  no  speaking- 
tubes  in  the  house,  still  they  found  no  difficulty 
in  calling  each  other  if  Ethan  were  up  stairs  and 
Alice  wanted  him  to  come  down. 

Their  father  was  buried,  and  the  children  were 
left  alone.  The  first  night  after  the  funeral 
they  stole  to  their  beds  as  soon  as  they  could, 
after  the  mock  supper  was  over.  The  next 
morning  George  and  Fanny  found  themselves 
the  first  to  meet  at  the  kitchen  hearth.  Each 
had  tried  to  anticipate  the  other  in  making  the 
morning  fire.  Each  confessed  to  the  other  that 
there  had  been  but  little  sleep,  and  that  the 
night  had  seemed  hopelessly  long. 

"But  I  have  thought  it  all  over,"  said  the 
brave,  stout  boy.  "Father  told  us  to  stick 
together  as  long  as  we  can.  And  I  know  I  can 
manage  it.  The  children  will  all  do  their  best 


LOVE   IS    THE   WHOLE.  221 

wheii  they  understand  it.  And  I  know,  though 
father  could  not  believe  it,  I  know  that  T  can 
manage  with  the  team.  We  will  never  get  in 
debt.  I  shall  never  drink.  Drink  and  debt,  as 
he  used  to  say,  are  the  only  two  devils.  Never 
you  cry,  darling  Fanny,  I  know  we  can  get 
along." 

"  George,"  said  Fanny,  "  I  know  we  can  get 
along  if  you  say  so.  I  know  it  will  be  very 
hard  upon  you.  There  are  so  many  things  the 
other  young  men  do  which  you  will  not  be  able 
to  do ;  and  so  many  things  which  they  have 
which  you  might  have.  But  none  of  them  has 
a  sister  who  loves  them  as  I  love  you.  And,  as 
he  said,  '  Love  is  the  whole.' " 

I  suppose  those  words  over  the  hearth  were 
almost  the  only  words  of  sentiment  which  ever 
passed  between  those  two  about  their  plans. 
But  from  that  moment  those  plans  went  forward 
more  perfectly  than  if  they  had  been  talked  over 
at  every  turn,  and  amended  everyday.  That 
is  the  way  with  all  true  stories  of  hearth  and 
home. 

For  instance,  it  was  only  that  evening,  when 
the  day's  work  of  all  the  six  was  done  —  and, 
for  boys  and  girls,  it  was  hard  work,  too  — 


222  LOVE  IS  THE   WHOLE. 

Fanny  and  George  would  have  been  glad 
enough,  both  of  them,  to  take  each  a  book,  and 
have  the  comfort  of  resting  and  reading.  But 
George  saw  that  the  younger  girls  looked  down 
cast  and  heavy,  and  that  the  boys  were  whisper 
ing  round  the  door-steps  as  if  they  wanted  to 
go  down  to  the  blacksmith's  shop  by  way  of 
getting  away  from  the  sadness  of  the  house. 
He  hated  to  have  them  begin  the  habit  of  loaf 
ing  there,  with  all  the  lazy  boys  and  men  from 
three  miles  round.  And  so  he  laid  down  his 
book,  and  said,  as  cheerily  as  if  he  had  not  laid 
his  father's  body  in  the  grave  the  day  before,  — 

"  What  shall  we  do  to-night  that  we  can 
all  do  together?  Let  us  have  something  that 
we  have  never  had  before.  Let  us  try  what 
Mrs.  Chisholm  told  us  about.  Let  us  act  a 
ballad." 

Of  course  the  children  were  delighted  with 
acting.  George  knew  that,  and  Fanny  looked 
across  so  gratefully  to  him,  and  laid  her  book 
away  also ;  and,  in  a  minute,  Ethan,  the  young 
carpenter  of  the  family,  was  putting  up  sconces 
for  tallow  candles  to  light  the  scenes,  and  Fanny 
had  Sarah  and  Alice  out  in  the  wood-house, 
with  the  shawls,  and  the  old  ribbons,  and  strips 


LOVE  IS   THE   WHOLE.  228 

of  bright  calico,  which  made  up  the  dresses,  and 
George  instructed  Walter  as  to  the  way  in  which 
he  should  arrange  his  armor  and  his  horse,  and 
so,  after  a  period  of  preparation,  which  was 
much  longer  than  the  period  of  performance, 
they  got  ready  to  act  in  the  kitchen  the  ballad 
of  Lochinvar. 

The  children  had  a  happy  evening.  They 
were  frightened  when  they  went  to  bed  —  the 
little  ones  —  because  they  had  been  so  merry. 
They  came  together  with  George  and  Fanny, 
and  read  their  Bible  as  they  had  been  used  to 
do  with  their  father,  and  the  last  text  they  read 
was,  "  Love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law."  So 
the  little  ones  went  to  bed,  and  left  George  and 
Fanny  again  together. 

"  Pretty  hard,  was  it  not  ?  "  said  she,  smiling 
through  her  tears.  "  But  it  is  so  much  best 
for  them  that  home  should  be  the  happiest 
place  of  all  for  them.  After  all,  '  Love  is  the 
whole.' " 

And  that  night's  sacrifice,  which  the  two  older 
children  made  to  the  younger  brothers  and  sis 
ters  as  it  were  over  their  father's  grave,  was  the 
beginning  of  many  such  nights,  and  of  many 
other  joint  amusements  which  the  children 


224  LOVE  IS   THE   WHOLE. 

arranged  together.  They  read  Dickens  aloud. 
They  cleared  out  the  corn-room  at  the  end  of 
the  wood-house  for  a  place  for  their  dialogues 
and  charades.  The  neighbors'  children  liked 
to  come  in,  and,  under  very  strict  rules  of  early 
hours  and  of  good  behavior,  they  came.  And 
George  and  Fanny  found,  not  only  that  they 
were  getting  a  reputation  for  keeping  their  own 
little  flock  in  order,  but  that  the  nicest  children 
all  around  were  intrusted  to  their  oversight, 
even  by  the  most  careful  fathers  and  mothers. 
All  this  pleasure  to  the  children  came  from  the 
remembrance  that  "  Love  is  the  whole." 

Far  from  finding  themselves  a  lonely  and  for 
saken  family,  these  boys  and  girls  soon  found 
that  they  were  surrounded  with  friends.  George 
was  quite  right  in  assuming  that  he  could  man 
age  the  team,  and  could  keep  the  little  farm  up, 
not  to  its  full  production  under  his  father,  but 
to  a  crop  large  enough  to  make  them  comfort 
able.  Every  little  while  there  had  to  be  a  con 
sultation.  Mr.  Snyder  came  down  one  day  to 
offer  him  forty  dollars  a  month  and  his  board, 
if  he  would  go  off  on  a  surveying  party  and 
carry  chain  for  the  engineers.  It  would  be 
in  a  good  line  for  promotion.  Forty  dollars  a 


LOVE   IS   THE   WHOLE.  225 

month  to  send  home  to  Fanny  was  a  great  temp 
tation.  And  George  and  Fanny  put  an  extra 
pine-knot  on  the  fire,  after  the  children  had 
gone  to  bed,  that  they  might  talk  it  over.  But 
George  declined  the  proposal,  with  many  thanks 
to  Mr.  Snyder.  He  said  to  him,  "  that,  if  he 
went  away,  the  whole  household  would  be  very 
much  weakened.  The  boys  could  not  carry  on 
the  farm  alone,  and  would  have  to  hire  out. 
He  thought  they  were  too  young  for  that. 
After  all,  Mr.  Snyder,  '  Love  is  the  whole.' ' 
And  Mr.  Sydner  agreed  with  him. 

Then,  as  a  few  years  passed  by,  after  another 
long  council,  in  which  another  pine-knot  was 
sacrificed  on  the  hearth,  and  in  which  Walter 
assisted  with  George  and  Fanny,  it  was  agreed 
that  Walter  should  "  hire  out."  He  had  "  a 
chance,"  as  they  said,  to  go  over  to  the  Stacy 
Brothers,  in  the  next  county.  Now  the  Stacy 
Brothers  had  the  greatest  stock  farm  in  all  that 
part  of  Illinois.  They  had  to  hire  a  great  deal 
of  help,  and  it  was  a  great  question  to  George 
and  Fanny  whether  poor  Walter  might  not  get 
more  harm  than  good  there.  But  they  told 
Walter  perfectly  frankly  their  doubts  and  their 
hopes.  And  he  said  boldly,  "  Never  you  fear 

15 


,226  LOVE  IS   THE   WHOLE. 

me.  Do  you  think  I  am  such  a  fool  as  to  for 
get  ?  Do  I  not  know  that '  Love  is  the  whole  '  ? 
Shall  I  ever  forget  who  taught  us  so  ?  "  And 
so  it  was  determined  that  he  should  go. 

Yes,  and  he  went.  The  Stacys'  great  estab 
lishment  was  different  indeed  from  the  little 
cabin  he  had  left.  But  the  other  boys  there, 
and  the  men  he  met,  Norwegians,  Welshmen, 
Germans,  Yankees,  all  sorts  of  people,  all  had 
hearts  just  like  his  heart.  And  a  helpful  boy, 
honest  as  a  clock  and  brave  as  St.  Paul,  who 
really  tried  to  serve  every  one  as  he  found  oppor 
tunity,  made  friends  on  the  great  stock  farm 
just  as  he  had  in  the  corn-room  at  the  end  of 
the  wood-house.  And  once  a  month,  when 
their  wages  were  paid,  he  was  able  to  send  home 
the  lion's  share  of  his  to  Fanny,  in  letters  which 
every  month  were  written  a  little  better,  and 
seemed  a  little  more  easy  for  him  to  write. 
And  when  Thanksgiving  came,  Mr.  George 
Stacy  sent  him  home  for  a  fortnight,  with  a  spe 
cial  message  to  his  sister,  "  that  he  could  not  do 
without  him,  and  he  wished  she  would  send  him 
a  dozen  of  such  boys.  He  knew  how  to  raise 
oxen,  he  said ;  but  would  Miss  Fanny  tell  him 
how  she  brought  up  boys  like  Walter  ?  " 


LOVE   IS   THE   WHOLE.  227 

"  I  could,  have  told  him,"  said  Walter,  "  but 
I  did  not  choose  to ;  I  could  have  told  him  that 
love  was  the  whole." 

And  that  story  of  Walter  is  only  the  story  of 
the  way  in  which  Ethan  also  kept  up  the  home 
tie,  and  came  back,  when  he  got  a  chance,  from 
his  voyages.  His  voyages  were  not  on  the  sea. 
He  "  hired  out "  with  a  canal-boatman.  Some 
times  they  went  to  the  lake,  and  once  they  set 
sail  there  and  came  as  far  as  Cleveland.  Ethan 
made  a  great  deal  of  fun  in  pretending  to  tell 
great  sea-stories,  like  Swiss  Family  Robinson 
and  Sinbad  the  Sailor.  Fresh-water  voyaging 
has  its  funny  side,  as  has  the  deep-sea  sailing. 
But  Ethan  did  not  hold  to  it  long.  His  expe 
rience  with  grain  brought  him  at  last  to  Chicago, 
and  he  engaged  there  in  the  work  of  an  eleva 
tor.  But  he  lived  always  the  old  home  life. 
There  were  three  other  boys  he  got  acquainted 
with,  one  at  Mr.  Eggleston's  church,  one  at  the 
Custom  House,  and  one  at  the  place  where  he 
got  his  dinner,  and  they  used  to  come  up  to  his 
little  room  in  the  seventh  story  of  the  McKenzie 
House,  and  sit  on  his  bed  and  in  his  chairs,  just 
as  the  boys  from  the  blacksmith's  came  into  the 
corn-room.  These  four  boys  made  a  literary 


228  LOVE   IS   THE   WHOLE. 

club  "  for  reading  Shakespeare  and  the  British 
essayists."  Often  did  they  laugh  afterwards 
at  its  title.  They  called  it  the  Club  of  the 
Tetrarchy,  because  they  thought  it  grand  to 
have  a  Greek  name.  Whatever  its  name  was, 
it  kept  them  out  of  mischief.  These  boys  grew 
up  to  be  four  ruling  powers  in  Western  life. 
And  when,  years  after,  some  one  asked  Ethan 
how  it  was  that  he  had  so  stanch  a  friend  in 
Torrey,  Ethan  told  the  history  of  the  seventh- 
story  room  at  the  McKenzie  House,  and  he  said, 
44  Love  is  the  whole." 

Central  in  all  his  life  was  the  little  cabin  of 
two  rooms  and  a  loft  over  it.  There  is  no  day 
of  his  life,  from  that  time  to  this,  of  which 
Fanny  cannot  tell  you  the  story  from  his  weekly 
letters  home.  For  though  she  does  not  live  in 
the  cabin  now,  she  keeps  the  old  letters  filed 
and  in  order,  and  once  a  week  steadily  Ethan  has 
written  to  her,  and  the  letters  are  all  sealed  now 
with  his  own  seal-ring,  and  on  the  seal-ring  is 
carved  the  inscription,  "  Love  is  the  whole." 

I  must  not  try  to  tell  you  the  story  of  Alice's 
fortunes,  or  Sarah's.  Every  day  of  their  lives 
was  a  romance,  as  is  every  day  of  yours  and 
mine.  Every  day  was  a  love-story,  as  may  be 


LOVE   IS   THE   WHOLE.  229 

every  day  of  yours  and  mine,  if  we  will  make  it 
so.  As  they  all  grew  older  their  homes  were 
all  somewhat  parted.  The  boys  became  men 
and  married.  The  girls  became  women  and 
married.  George  never  pulled  down  the  old 
farm-house,  not  even  when  he  and  Mr.  Vaux 
built  the  beautiful  house  that  stands  next  to  it 
to-day.  He  put  trellises  on  the  sides  of  it. 
He  trained  cotoneaster  and  Roxbury  wax- work 
over  it.  He  carved  a  cross  himself,  and  fas 
tened  it  in  the  gable.  Above  the  door,  as  you 
went  in,  was  a  picture  of  Mary  Mother  and  her 
Child,  with  this  inscription :  — 

"  Holy  cell  and  holy  shrine, 
For  the  Maid  and  Child  divine  ! 
Remember,  thou  that  seest  her  bending 

O'er  that  babe  upon  her  knee, 
All  heaven  is  ever  thus  extending 

Its  arms  of  love  round  thee. 
Such  love  shall  bless  our  arched  porch ; 
Crowned  with  his  cross,  our  cot  becomes  a  church." 

And  in  that  little  church  he  gathered  the 
boys  and  girls  of  the  neighborhood  every  Sun 
day  afternoon,  and  told  them  stories  and  they 
sang  together.  And  on  the  week  days  he  got 
up  children's  parties  there,  which  all  the  chil 
dren  thought  rather  the  best  experiences  of  the 


230  LOVE  IS   THE  WHOLE. 

week,  and  he  and  his  wife  and  his  own  children 
grew  to  think  the  hours  in  the  cabin  the  best 
hours  of  all.  There  were  pictures  on  the  walls ; 
they  painted  the  windows  themselves  with 
flower-pictures,  and  illuminated  them  with  col 
ored  leaves.  But  there  were  but  two  inscrip 
tions.  These  were  over  the  inside  of  the  two 
doors,. and  both  inscriptions  were  the  same, — 
"Love  is  the  whole." 

They  told  all  these  stories,  and  a  hundred 
more,  at  a  great  Thanksgiving  party  after  the 
war.  Walter  and  his  wife  and  his  children 
came  from  Sangamon  County ;  and  the  General 
and  all  his  family  came  down  from  Winetka ; 
and  Fanny  and  the  Governor  and  all  their  seven 
came  all  the  way  from  Minnesota;  and  Alice 
and  her  husband  and  all  her  little  ones  came  up 
the  river,  and  so  across  from  Quincy  ;  and  Sarah 
and  Gilbert,  with  the  twins  and  the  babies, 
came  in  their  own  carriage  all  the  way  from 
Horace.  So  there  was  a  Thanksgiving  dinner 
set  for  all  the  six,  and  the  six  husbands  and 
wives,  and  the  twenty-seven  children.  In 
twenty  years,  since  their  father  died,  those 
brothers  and  sisters  had  lived  for  each  other. 
They  had  had  separate  houses,  but  they  had 


LOVE   IS   THE   WHOLE.  231 

spent  the  money  in  them  for  each  other.  No 
one  of  them  had  said  that  anything  he  had  was 
his  own.  They  had  confided  wholly  each  in 
each.  They  had  passed  through  much  sorrow, 
and  in  that  sorrow  had  strengthened  each  other. 
They  had  passed  through  much  joy,  and  the  joy 
had  been  multiplied  tenfold  because  it  was  joy 
that  was  shared.  At  the  Thanksgiving  they 
acted  the  ballad  of  Lochinvar  again,  or  rather 
some  of  the  children  did.  And  that  set  Fanny 
the  oldest  and  Sarah  the  youngest  to  telling  to 
the  oldest  nephews  and  nieces  some  of  the 
stories  of  the  cabin  days.  But  Fanny  said, 
when  the  children  asked  for  more,  "  There  is  no 
need  of  any  more,  — '  Love  is  the  whole.' " 


CHRISTMAS  AND   ROME. 


*"  I  ^HE  first  Christinas  this  in  which  a  Roman 
Senate  has  sat  in  Rome  since  the  old-fash 
ioned  Roman  Senates  went  under,  —  or  since 
they  "  went  up,"  if  we  take  the  expressive  lan 
guage  of  our  Chicago  friends. 

And  Pius  IX.  is  celebrating  Christmas  with 
an  uncomfortable  look  backward,  and  an  uncom 
fortable  look  forward,  and  an  uncomfortable 
look  all  around.  It  is  a  suggestive  matter,  this 
Italian  Parliament  sitting  in  Rome.  It  suggests 
a  good  deal  of  history  and  a  good  deal  of 
prophecy. 

"They  say"  (whoever  they  may  be)  that 
somewhere  in  Rome  there  is  a  range  of  portraits 
of  popes,  running  down  from  never  so  far  back ; 
that  only  one  niche  was  left  in  the  architecture, 
which  received  the  portrait  of  Pius  IX.,  and 
that  then  that  place  was  full.  Maybe  it  is  so. 


CHEISTMAS   AND   BOMB.  233 

I  did  not  see  the  row.  But  I  have  heard  the 
story  a  thousand  times.  Be  it  true,  be  it  false, 
there  are,  doubtless,  many  other  places  where 
portraits  of  coming  -popes  could  be  hung. 
There  is  a  little  wall-room  left  in  the  City  Hall 
of  New  York.  There  are,  also,  other  palaces  in 
which  popes  could  live.  Palaces  are  as  plenty 
in  America  as  are  Pullman  cars.  But  it  is  pos 
sible  that  there  are  no  such  palaces  in  Rome. 

So  this  particular  Christmas  sets  one  careering 
back  a  little,  to  look  at  that  mysterious  connec 
tion  of  Rome  with  Christianity,  which  has  held 
on  so  steadily  since  the  first  Christmas  got 
itself  put  on  historical  record  by  a  Roman  cen 
sus-maker.  Humanly  speaking,  it  was  nothing 
more  nor  less  than  a  Roman  census  which  makes 
the  word  Bethlehem  to  be  a  sacred  word  over 
all  the  world  to-day.  To  any  person  who  sees 
the  humorous  contrasts  of  history  there  is  reason 
for  a  bit  of  a  smile  when  he  thinks  of  the  way 
this  census  came  into  being,  and  then  remembers 
what  came  of  it.  Here  was  a  consummate 
movement  of  Augustus,  who  would  fain  have  the 
statistics  of  his  empire.  Such  excellent  things 
are  statistics  !  "  You  can  prove  any  tiling  by 
statistics,"  says  Mr.  Canning,  "except  —  the 


234  CHRISTMAS  AND   ROME. 

truth."  So  Augustus  orders  his  census,  and  hia 
census  is  taken.  This  Quirinus,  or  Quirinius, 
pro-consul  of  Syria,  was  the  first  man  who  took 
it  there,  says  the  Bible.  Much  appointing  of 
marshals  and  deputy-marshals,  —  men  good  at 
counting,  and  good  at  writing,  and  good  at  col 
lecting  fees  I  Doubtless  it  was  a  great  staff 
achievement  of  Quirinus,  and  made  much  talk  in 
its  time.  And  it  is  so  well  condensed  at  last 
and  put  into  tables  with  indexes  and  averages 
as  to  be  very  creditable,  I  will  not  doubt,  to  the 
census  bureau.  But  alas !  as  time  rolls  on, 
things  change,  so  that  this  very  Quirinus,  who 
with  all  a  pro-consul's  power  took  such  pains  to 
record  for  us  the  number  of  people  there  were 
in  Bethlehem  and  in  Judah,  would  have  been 
clean  forgotten  himself,  and  his  census  too,  but 
that  things  turned  bottom  upward.  The  mean 
est  child  born  in  Bethlehem  when  this  census 
business  was  going  on  happened  to  prove  to  be 
King  of  the  World.  It  happened  that  he  over 
threw  the  dynasty  of  Caesar  Augustus,  and  his 
temples,  and  his  empire.  It  happened  that 
everything  which  was  then  established  tottered 
and  fell,  as  the  star  of  this  child  arose.  And 
the  child's  star  did  rise.  And  now  this  Publiua 


CHRISTMAS   AND   ROME.  235 

Sulpicius  Quirinus  or  Quirinius,  —  a  great  man 
in  his  day,  for  whom  Augustus  asked  for  a 
triumph,  —  is  rescued  from  complete  forgetful- 
ness  because  that  baby  happened  to  be  born  in 
Syria  when  his  census  was  going  on  I 

I  always  liked  to  think  that  some  day  when 
Augustus  Csesar  was  on  a  state  visit  to  the 
Temple  of  Fortune  some  attentive  clerk  handed 
him  down  the  roll  which  had  just  come  in  and 
said,  "  From  Syria,  your  Highness !  "  that  he 
might  have  a  chance  to  say  something  to  the 
Emperor  ;  that  the  Emperor  thanked  him,  and, 
in  his  courtly  way,  opened  the  roll  so  as  to  seem 
interested ;  that  his  eye  caught  the  words 
"  Bethlehem  —  village  near  Jerusalem,"  and 
the  figures  which  showed  the  number  of  the 
people  and  of  the  children  and  of  all  the  infants 
there.  Perhaps.  No  matter  if  not.  Sixty 
years  after,  Augustus'  successor,  Nero,  set  fire 
to  Rome  in  a  drunken  fit.  The  Temple  of 
Fortune  caught  the  flames,  and  our  roll,  with 
Bethlehem  and  the  count  of  Joseph's  posses 
sions  twisted  and  crackled  like  any  common  rag, 
turned  to  smoke  and  ashes,  and  was  gone. 
That  is  what  such  statistics  come  to  ! 

Five  hundred  years  after,  the  whole  scene  is 


236  CHRISTMAS   AND   KOME. 

changed.  The  Church  of  Christ,  which  for 
hundreds  of  years  worshipped  under-ground  in 
Rome,  has  found  air  and  sunlight  now.  It  is 
almost  five  hundred  years  after  Paul  enters 
Rome  as  a  prisoner,  after  Nero  burned  Rome 
down,  that  a  monk  of  St.  Andrew,  one  of  the 
more  prominent  monasteries  of  the  city  of  Rome, 
walking  through  that  great  market-place  of  the 
city  —  which  to  this  hour  preserves  most  dis 
tinctly,  perhaps,  the  memory  of  what  Rome  was 
->-saw  a  party  of  fair-haired  slaves  for  sale 
among  the  rest.  He  stops  to  ask  where  they 
come  from,  and  of  what  nation  they  are  ;  'to  be 
told  they  are  "  Angli."  "  Rather  Angeli,"  says 
Gregory,  —  "rather  angels;"  and  with  other 
sacred  bon-mots  he  fixes  the  pretty  boys  and 
pretty  girls  in  his  memory.  Nor  are  these 
familiar  plays  upon  words  to  be  spoken  of  as 
mere  puns.  Gregory  was  determined  to  attempt 
the  qonversion  of  the  land  from  which  these 
"  angels"  came.  He  started  on  the  pilgrimage, 
which  was  then  a  dangerous  one ;  but  was  re 
called  by  the  pope  of  his  day,  at  the  instance  of 
his  friends,  who  could  not  do  without  him. 

A  few  years  more  and  this  monk  is  Bishop  of 
Rome.      True    to  the  promise  of  the  market- 


CHRISTMAS   AND   ROME.  237 

place,  he  organizes  the  Christian  mission  which 
fulfils  his  prophecy.  He  sends  Austin  with  his 
companions  to  the  island  of  the  fair-haired  slave 
boys  ;  and  that  new  step  in  the  civilization  of 
that  land  comes,  to  which  we  owe  it  that  we 
are  me.t  in  this  church,  nay,  that  we  live  in  this 
land  this  day. 

So  far  has  the  star  of  the  baby  of  Bethlehem 
risen  hi  a  little  more  than  five  centuries.  A 
Christian  dominion  has  laid  its  foundations  in 
the  Eternal  City.  And  you  and  I,  gentle 
reader,  are  what  we  are  and  are  where  we  are 
because  that  monk  of  St.  Andrew  saw  those 
angel  boys  that  day  in  a  Roman  market-place. 


THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY. 


F( 


'OllTUNATELY  we  were  with  our  wives. 

It  is  in  general  an  excellent  custom,  as  I 
will  explain  if  opportunity  is  given. 

First,  you  are  thus  sure  of  good  company. 

For  four  mortal  hours  we  had  ground  along, 
"  ^,and  stopped  and  waited  and  started  again,  in 
the  drifts  between  Westfield  and  Springfield. 
We  had  shrieked  out  our  woes  by  the  voices  of 
fire-engines.  '  Brave  men  had  dug.  Patient 
men  had  sate  -inside,  and  waited  for  the  results 
off  the  digging.  At  last,  in  triumph,  at  eleven 
and  three-quarters,  as  they  say  in  Cinderella 
we  entered  the  Springfield  station. 

It  was  Christmas  eve  I 

Leaving  the  train  to  its  devices,  Blatchford 
and  his  wife  (her  name  was  Sarah),  and  I  with 
mine  (her  name  was  Phebe),  walked  quickly 
with  our  little  sacks  out  of  the  station,  ploughed 


THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY.  239 

and  waded  along  the  white  street,  not  to  the 
Massasoit,  —  no,  but  to  the  old  Eagle  and  Star, 
which  was  still  standing,  and  was  a  favorite 
with  us  youngsters.  Good  waffles,  maple  syrup 
ad  lib.,  such  fixings  of  other  sorts  as  we  pre 
ferred,  and  some  liberty.  The  amount  of  liberty 
in  absolutely  first-class  hotels  is  but  small.  A 
drowsy  boy  waked,  and  turned  up  the  gas. 
Blatchford  entered  our  names  on  the  register, 
and  cried  at  once,  "By  George,  Wolfgang  is 
here,  and  Dick!  What  luck!"  for  Dick  and 
Wolfgang  also  travel  with  their  wives.  The 
boy  explained  that  they  had  come  up  the  river 
in  the  New-Haven  train,  were  only  nine  hours 
behind  time,  had  arrived  at  ten,  and  had  just 
finished  supper  and  gone  to  bed.  We  ordered 
rare  beef-steak,  waffles,  dip-toast,  omelettes 
with  kidneys,  and  omelettes  without ;  we  toasted 
our  feet  at  the  open  fire  in  the  parlor ;  we  ate 
the  supper  when  it  was  ready ;  and  we  also 
went  to  bed ;  rejoicing  that  we  had  home  with 
us,  having  travelled  with  our  wives ;  and  that 
we  could  keep  our  merry  Christmas  here.  If 
only  Wolfgang  and  Dick  and  their  wives  would 
join  us,  all  would  be  well.  (Wolfgang's  wife 
was  named  Bertha,  and  Dick's  was  named 


240  THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY. 

Hosanna,  —  a  name  I  have  never  met  with  else 
where.) 

Bed  followed ;  and  I  am  a  graceless  dog  that 
I  do  not  write  a  sonnet  here  on  the  unbroken 
slumber  that  followed.  Breakfast,  by  arrange 
ment  of  us  four,  at  nine.  At  9.30,  to  us  enter 
Bertha,  Dick,  Hosanna,  and  Wolfgang,  to  name 
them  in  alphabetical  order.  Four  chairs  had 
been  turned  down  for  them.  Four  chops,  four 
omelettes,  and  four  small  oval  dishes  of  fried 
potatoes  had  been  ordered,  and  now  appeared. 
Immense  shouting,  immense  kissing  among 
those  who  had  that  privilege,  general  wonder 
ing,  and  great  congratulating  that  our  wives 
were  there.  Solid  resolution  that  we  would 
advance  no  farther.  Here,  and  here  only,  in 
Springfield  itself,  would  we  celebrate  our  Christ 
mas  day. 

It  may  be  remarked  in  parenthesis  that  we 
had  learned  already  that  no  train  had  entered 
the  town  since  eleven  and  a  quarter ;  and  it 
was  known  by  telegraph  that  none  was  within 
thirty-four  miles  and  a  half  of  the  spot,  at  the 
moment  the  vow  was  made. 

We  waded  and  ploughed  our  way  through 
the  snow  to  church.  I  think  Mr.  Rumfry,  if 


THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY.  241 

that  is  the  gentleman's  name  who  preached  an 
admirable  Christmas  sermon,  in  a  beautiful 
church  there  is,  will  remember  the  platoon  of 
four  men  and  four  women,  who  made  perhaps  a 
fifth  of  his  congregation  in  that  storm,  —  a  storm 
which  shut  off  most  church-going.  Home  again ; 
a  jolly  fire  in  the  parlor,  dry  stockings,  and  dry 
slippers.  Turkeys,  and  all  things  fitting  for  the 
dinner;  and  then  a  general  assembly,  not  in  a 
caravanserai,  not  in  a  coffee-room,  but  in  the 
regular  guests'  parlor  of  a  New-England  second- 
class  hotel,  where,  as  it  was  ordered,  there  were 
no  "  transients  "  but  ourselves  that  day ;  and 
whence  all  the  "  boarders  "  had  gone  either  to 
their  own  rooms,  or  to  other  homes. 

For  people  who  have  their  wives  with  them, 
it  is  not  difficult  to  provide  entertainment  on 
such  an  occasion. 

"  Bertha,"  said  Wolfgang,  "  could  you  not 
entertain  us  with  one  of  your  native  dances  ?  " 

"Ho!  slave,"  said  Dick  to  Hosanna,  "play 
upon  the  virginals."  And  Hosanna  played  a 
lively  Arab  air  on  the  tavern  piano,  while  the 
fair  Bertha  danced  with  a  spirit  unusual.  Was 
it  indeed  in  memory  of  the  Christmas  of  her 
own  dear  home  in  Circassia? 

16 


242  THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY. 

All  that,  from  "  Bertha "  to  "  Circassia,"  is 
not  so.  We  did  not  do  this  at  all.  That  was 
all  a  slip  of  the  pen.  What  we  did  was  this. 
John  Blatchford  pulled  the  bell-cord  till  it 
broke  (they  always  break  in  novels,  and  some 
times  they  do  in  taverns).  This  bell-cord  broke. 
The  sleepy  boy  came  ;  and  John  said,  "  Caitiff, 
is  there  never  a  barber  in  the  house  ? "  The 
frightened  boy  said  there  was ;  and  John  bade 
him  send  him.  In  a  minute  the  barber  appeared, 
—  black,  as  was  expected,  —  with  a  shining 
face,  and  white  teeth,  and  in  shirt  sleeves,  and 
broad  grins.  "Do  you  tell  me,  Caesar,"  said 
John,  "  that  hi  your  country  they  do  not  wear 
their  coats  on  Christmas  day  ?  "  —  "  Sartin, 
they  do,  sir,  when  they  go  out  doors." 

"  Do  you  tell  me,  Caesar,"  said  Dick,  "  that 
they  have  doors  in  your  country ?"  —  "Sartin, 
they  do,"  said  poor  Csesar,  flurried. 

"  Boy,"  said  I,  "  the  gentlemen  are  making 
fun  of  you.  They  want  to  know  if  you  ever 
keep  Christmas  in  your  country  without  a 
dance." 

"  Never,  sar,"  said  poor  Caesar. 

"  Do  they  dance  without  music  ?  " 

"  No,  sar ;  never." 


THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY.  243 

"  Go,  thei>,"  I  said  in  my  sternest  accents, — 
"go  fetch  a  zittern,  or  a  banjo,  or  a  kit,  or  a 
hurdy-gurdy,  or  a  fiddle." 

The  black  boy  went,  and  returned  with  his 
violin.  And  as  the  light  grew  gray,  and  crept 
into  the  darkness,  and  as  the  darkness  gathered 
more  thick  and  more,  he  played  for  us  and  he 
played  for  us,  tune  after  tune  ;  and  we  danced, 

—  first  with  precision,  then  in  sport,  then  in 
wild  holiday  frenzy.     "We  began  with  waltzes, 

—  so  great  is  the  convenience  of  travelling  with 
your  wives,  —  where  should  we  have  been,  had 
we  been  all  sole  alone,  four  men?     Probably 
playing  whist  or  euchre.     And  now  we  began 
with  waltzes,  which  passed  into  polkas,  which 
subsided  into  round  dances  ;   and  then  in  very 
exhaustion  we  fell  back  in  a  grave  quadrille. 
I  danced  with  Hosanna ;    Wolfgang  and  Sarah 
were  our  vis-d-vis.     We  went  through  the  same 
set  that  Noah  and  his  three  boys  danced  in  the 
ark  with  their  four  wives,  and  which  has  been 
danced  ever  since,  in  every  moment,  on  one  or 
another  spot  of  the  dry  earth,  going  round  it 
with  the  sun,  like  the  drumbeat  of  England,  — 
light  and  left,  first   two  forward,  right  hand 
across,  pastorale,  —  the  whole  series  of  them, 


244  THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY. 

we  did  them  with  as  much  spirit  as  if  it  had 
been  on  a  flat  on  the  side  of  Ararat,  ground  yet 
too  muddy  for  croquet.  Then  Blatchford  called 
for  "  Virginia  Reel,"  and  we  raced  and  chased 
through  that.  Poor  Csesar  began  to  get  ex 
hausted,  but  a  little  flip  from  down  stairs  helped 
him  amazingly.  And,  after  the  flip,  Dick  cried, 
"  Can  you  not  dance  *  Money-Musk '  ?  "  And 
in  one  wild  frenzy  of  delight  we  danced  "  Money- 
Musk  "  and  "Hull's  Victory"  and  "Dusty 
Miller  "  and  "  Youth's  Companion,"  and  "  Irish 
Jigs  "  on  the  closet-door  lifted  off  for  the  occa 
sion,  till  the  men  lay  on  the  floor  screaming  with 
the  fun,  and  the  women  fell  back  on  the  sofas, 
fairly  faint  with  laughing. 

All  this  last,  since  the  sentence  after  "  Cir- 
cassia,"  is  a  mistake.  There  was  not  any  bell, 
nor  any  barber,  and  we  did  not  dance  at  all. 
This  was  all  a  slip  of  my  memory. 

What  we  really  did  was  this :  — 

John  Blatchford  said,  —  "Let  us  all  tell 
stories."  It  was  growing  dark  and  he  had  put 
more  logs  on  the  fire. 

Bertha  said,  — 


THE  .SURVIVOR'S  STORY.  245 

"  Heap  on  more  wood,  the  wind  is  chill ; 
But  let  it  whistle  as  it  will, 
We'll  keep  our  merry  Christmas  still." 

She  said  that  because  it  was  in  "  Bertha's 
Visit,"  a  very  stupid  book  which  she  remem 
bered. 

Then  Wolfgang  told 

THE  PENNY-A-LINER'S  STORY. 

[Wolfgang  is  a  reporter,  or  was  then,  on  the 
staff  of  the  "  Star."] 

When  I  was  on  the  "  Tribune  "  (he  never 
was  on  the  "  Tribune  "  an  hour,  unless  he  calls 
selling  the  "  Tribune  "  at  Fort  Plains  being  on 
the  "  Tribune  ").  But  I  tell  the  story  as  he 
told  it.  He  said,  — 

When  I  was  on  the  "  Tribune,"  I  was  de 
spatched  to  report  Mr.  Webster's  great  reply 
to  Hayne.  This  was  in  the  days  of  stages. 
We  had  to  ride  from  Baltimore  to  Washington 
early  in  the  morning  to  get  there  in  time.  I 
found  my  boots  were  gone  from  my  room  when 
the  stage-man  called  me,  and  I  reported  that 
speech  in  worsted  slippers  my  wife  had  given  me 
the  week  before.  As  we  came  into  Bladensburg 
it  grew  light,  and  I  recognized  my  boots  on  the 


246  THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY. 

feet  of  my  fellow-passenger,  —  there  was  but  one 
other  man  in  the  stage.  I  turned  to  claim  them, 
but  stopped  in  a  moment,  for  it  was  Webster 
himself.  How  serene  his  face  looked  as  he 
slept  there  !  He  woke  soon,  passed  the  time  of 
day,  offered  me  a  part  of  a  sandwich,  —  for  we 
were  old  friends,  —  I  was  counsel  against  him 
in  the  Ogden  case.  Said  Webster  to  me, — 
"  Steele,  I  am  bothered  about  this  speech :  I 
have  a  paragraph  in  it  which  I  cannot  word  up 
to  my  mind."  And  he  repeated  it  to  me.  "  How 
would  this  do  ?  "  said  he.  "  '  Let  us  hope  that 
the  sense  of  unrestricted  freedom  may  be  so 
intertwined  with  the  desire  to  preserve  a  con 
nection  of  the  several  parts  of  the  body  politic, 
that  some  arrangement,  more  or  less  lasting, 
may  prove  in  a  measure  satisfactory.'  How 
would  that  do  ?  " 

I  said  I  liked  the  idea,  but  the  expression 
seemed  involved. 

"  And  it  is  involved,"  said  Webster;  "  but  I 
can't  improve  it." 

"  How  would  this  do  ?  "  said  I. 

"  '  LIBERTY  AND  UNION,  NOW  AND  FOREVER, 
ONE  AND  INSEPARABLE  !  '  " 

"  Capital !  "   he   said,    "  capital !    write    that 


THE  SUKVIVOK'S  STORY.  247 

down  for  me."  At  that  moment  we  arrived  at 
the  Capitol  steps.  I  wrote  down  the  words  for 
him,  and  from  my  notes  he  read  them,  when 
that  place  in  the  speech  came  along. 

All  of  us  applauded  the  story. 

Phebe  then  told 

THE  SCHOOLMISTRESS'S  STORY. 

You  remind  me  of  the  impression  that  very 
speech  made  on  me,  as  I  heard  Henry  Chapin 
deliver  it  at  an  exhibition  at  Leicester  Academy. 
I  resolved  then  that  I  would  free  the  slave,  or 
perish  in  the  attempt.  But  how  ?  I,  a  woman, 

—  disfranchised  by  the  law  ?     Ha !  I  saw  ! 

I  went  to  Arkansas.  I  opened  a  "  Normal 
College,  or  Academy  for  Teachers."  We  had 
balls  every  second  night,  to  make  it  popular. 
Immense  numbers  came.  Half  the  teachers  of 
the  Southern  States  were  trained  there.  I  had 
admirable  instructors  in  Oil  Painting  and  Music, 

—  the  most  essential  studies.     The  Arithmetic 
I  taught  myself.     I  taught  it  well.     I  achieved 
fame.     I  achieved  wealth ;  invested  in  Arkansas 
Five  per  Cents.     Only  one  secret  device  I  per 
severed  in.     To  all,  —  old  and  young,  innocent 
girls  and  sturdy  men,  —  I  so  taught  the  multi- 


248  THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY. 

plication-table,  that  one  fatal  error  was  hidden 
in  its  array  of  facts.  The  nine  line  is  the  diffi 
cult  one.  I  buried  the  error  there.  "  Nine 
times  six,"  I  taught  them,  "  is  fifty-six."  The 
rhyme  made  it  easy.  The  gilded  falsehood 
passed  from  lip  to  lip,  from  State  to  State, — 
one  little  speck  in  a  chain  of  golden  verity.  I 
retired  from  teaching.  Slowly  I  watched  the 
growth  of  the  rebellion.  At  last  the  aloe  blos 
som  shot  up,  — after  its  hundred  years  of  wait 
ing.  The  Southern  heart  was  fired.  I  brooded 
over  my  revenge.  I  repaired  to  Richmond.  I 
opened  a  first-class  boarding-house,  where  all 
the  Cabinet,  and  most  of  the  Senate,  came  for 
•their  meals ;  and  I  had  eight  permanents.  Soon 
their  brows  clouded.  The  first  flush  of  victory 
passed  away.  Night  after  night,  they  sat  over 
their  calculations,  which  all  came  wrong.  I 
smiled,  —  and  was  a  villain  !  None  of  their 
sums  would  prove.  None  of  their  estimates 
matched  the  performance  !  Never  a  muster-roll 
that  fitted  as  it  should  do  !  And  I,  —  the  de 
spised  boarding-mistress,  —  I  alone  knew  why ! 
Often  and  often,  when  Memminger  has  said  to 
me,  with  an  oath,  "  Why  this  discordancy  in 
our  totals  ?  "  have  my  lips  burned  to  tell  the 


THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY.  249 

secret !  But  no  !  I  hid  it  in  my  bosom.  And 
when,  at  last,  I  saw  a  black  regiment  march 
into  Richmond,  singing  "  John  Brown,"  I  cried, 
for  the  first  time  in  twenty  years,  "  Nine  times 
six  is  fifty-four;"  and  gloated  in  my  sweet 
revenge. 

Then  was  hushed  the  harp  of  Phebe,  and 
Dick  told  his  story. 

THE  INSPECTOR   OF   GAS-METERS'    STORY. 

Mine  is  a  tale  of  the  ingratitude  of  republics. 
It  is  well-nigh  thirty  years  since  I  was  walking 
by  the  Owego  and  Ithaca  Railroad,  —  a  crooked 
road,  not  then  adapted  to  high  speed.  Of  a 
sudden  I  saw  that  a  long  cross  timber,  on  a 
trestle,  high  above  a  swamp,  had  sprung  up 
from  its  ties.  I  looked  for  a  spike  with  which 
to  secure  it.  I  found  a  stone  with  which  to 
hammer  the  spike.  But,  at  this  moment,  a 
train  approached,  down  hill.  I  screamed. 
They  heard  !  But  the  engine  had  no  power 
to  stop  the  heavy  train.  With  the  presence  of 
mind  of  a  poet,  and  the  courage  of  a  hero,  I 
flung  my  own  weight  on  the  fatal  timber.  I 
would  hold  it  down,  or  perish.  The  engine 
came.  The  elasticity  of  the  pine  timber  whirled 


250  THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY. 

me  in  the  air!  But  I  held  on.  The  tender 
crossed.  Again  I  was  flung  in  wild  gyrations. 
But  I  held  on.  "  It  is  no  bed  of  roses,"  I  said  ; 
"  but  what  act  of  Parliament  was  there  that  I 
should  be  happy."  Three  passenger  cars,  and 
ten  freight  cars,  as  was  then  the  vicious  custom 
of  that  road,  passed  me.  But  I  held  on,  repeat 
ing  to  myself  texts  of  Scripture  to  give  me 
courage.  As  the  last  car  passed,  I  was  whirled 
into  the  air  by  the  rebound  of  the  rafter. 
"  Heavens !  "  I  said,  "  if  my  orbit  is  a  hyper 
bola,  I  shall  never  return  to  earth."  Hastily 
I  estimated  its  ordinates,  and  calculated  the 
curve.  What  bliss  !  It  was  a  parabola !  After 
a  flight  of  a  hundred  and  seventeen  cubits,  I 
landed,  head  down,  in  a  soft  mud-hole. 

In  that  train  was  the  young  U.  S.  Grant,  on 
his  way  to  West  Point  for  examination.  But 
for  me  the  armies  of  the  Republic  would  have 
had  no  leader. 

.  I  pressed  my  claim,  when  I  asked  to  be  ap 
pointed  to  England.  Although  no  one  else 
wished  to  go,  I  alone  was  forgotten.  Such  is 
gratitude  with  republics ! 

He  ceased.     Then  Sarah  Blatchford  told 


THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY.  251 

THE  WHEELER  AND  WILSON'S  OPERATIVE'S 

STORY. 

My  father  had  left  the  anchorage  of  Sorrento 
for  a  short  voyage,  if  voyage  it  may  be  called. 
Life  was  young,  and  this  world  seemed  heaven. 
The  yacht  bowled  on  under  close-reefed  stay 
sails,  and  all  was  happy.  Suddenly  the  corsairs 
seized  us :  all  were  slain  in  my  defence ;  but 
I,  —  this  fatal  gift  of  beauty  bade  them  spare 
my  life. 

Why  linger  on  my  tale !  In  the  Zenana  of 
the  Shah  of  Persia  I  found  my  home.  "  How 
escape  his  eye?"  I  said;  and,  fortunately,  I 
remembered  that  in  my  reticule  I  carried  one 
box  of  F.  Kidder's  indelible  ink.  Instantly  I 
applied  the  liquid  in  the  large  bottle  to  one 
cheek.  Soon  as  it  was  dry,  I  applied  that  in 
the  small  bottle,  and  sat  in  the  sun  one  hour. 
My  head  ached  with  the  sunlight,  but  what  of 
that  ?  I  was  a  fright,  and  I  knew  all  would  be 
well. 

I  was  consigned,  so  soon  as  my  hideous  defi 
ciencies  were  known,  to  the  sewing-room.  Then 
how  I  sighed  for  my  machine !  Alas !  it  was 
not  there ;  but  I  constructed  an  imitation  from 


252  THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY. 

a  cannon-wheel,  a  coffee-mill,  and  two  nut 
crackers.  And  with  this  I  made  the  under 
clothing  for  the  palace  and  the  Zenana. 

I  also  vowed  revenge.  Nor  did  I  doubt  one 
instant  how  ;  for  in  my  youth  I  had  read  Lu- 
cretia  Borgia's  memoirs,  and  I  had  a  certain 
rule  for  slowly  slaying  a  tyrant  at  a  distance. 
I  was  in  charge  of  the  shah's  own  linen.  Every 
week,  I  set  back  the  buttons  on  his  shirt  collars 
by  the  width  of  one  thread  ;  or,  by  arts  known 
to  me,  I  shrunk  the  binding  of  the  collar  by  a 
like  proportion.  Tighter  and  tighter  with  each 
week  did  the  vice  close  around  his  larynx. 
Week  by  week,  at  the  high  religious  festivals, 
I  could  see  his  face  was  blacker  and  blacker. 
At  length  the  hated  tyrant  died.  The  leeches 
called  it  apoplexy.  I  did  not  undeceive  them. 
His  guards  sacked  the  palace.  I  bagged  the 
diamonds,  -fled  with  them  to  Trebizond,  and 
sailed  thence  in  a  caique  to  South  Boston.  No 
more !  such  memories  oppress  me. 

Her  voice  was  hushed.     I  told  my  tale  in 

turn. 

THE  CONDUCTOR'S  STORY. 

I  was  poor.  Let  this  be  my  excuse,  or  rather 
my  apology.  I  entered  a  Third  Avenue  car  at 


THE   SURVIVOR'S   STORY.  253 

Thirty-sixth  Street,  and  saw  the  conductor 
sleeping.  Satan  tempted  me,  and  I  took  from 
him  his  badge,  213.  I  see  the  hated  figures 
now.  When  he  woke,  he  knew  not  he  had 
lost  it.  The  car  started,  and  he  walked  to  the 
rear.  With  the  badge  on  my  coat,  I  collected 
eight  fares  within,  stepped  forward,  and  sprang 
into  the  street.  Poverty  is  my  only  apology  for 
the  crime.  I  concealed  myself  in  a  cellar  where 
men  were  playing  with  props.  Fear  is  my  only 
excuse.  Lest  they  should  suspect  me,  I  joined 
their  game,  and  my  forty  cents  were  soon  three 
dollars  and  seventy.  With  these  ill-gotten 
gains,  I  visited  the  gold  exchange,  then  open 
evenings.  My  superior  intelligence  enabled  me 
to  place  well  my  modest  means,  and  at  mid 
night  I  had  a  competence.  Let  me  be  a  warn 
ing  to  all  young  men.  Since  that  night,  I  have 
never  gambled  more. 

I  threw  the  hated  badge  into  the  river.  I 
bought  a  palace  on  Murray  Hill,  and  led  an  up 
right  and  honorable  life.  But  since  that  night 
of  terror  the  sound  of  the  horse-cars  oppresses 
me.  Always  since,  to  go  up  town  or  down,  I 
order  my  own  coupe,  with  George  to  drive  me  ; 
and  never  have  I  entered  the  cleanly,  sweet, 


254  THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY. 

and  airy  carriage  provided  for  the  public.  I 
cannot;  conscience  is  too  much  for  me.  You 
see  in  me  a  monument  of  crime. 

I  said  no  more.  A  moment's  pause,  a  few 
natural  tears,  and  a  single  sigh  hushed  the 
assembly;  then  Bertha,  with  her  siren  voice, 
told  — 

THE  WIFE   OF  BIDDEFORD'S   STORY. 

At  the  time  you  speak  of,  I  was  the  private 
governess  of  two  lovely  boys,  Julius  and  Pom- 
pey,  —  Pompey  the  senior  of  the  two.  The 
black-eyed  darling  !  I  see  him  now.  I  also  see, 
hanging  to  his  neck,  his  blue-eyed  brother,  who 
had  given  Pompey  his  black  eye  the  day  before. 
Pompey  was  generous  to  a  fault ;  Julius,  par 
simonious  beyond  virtue.  I  therefore  instructed 
them  in  two  different  rooms.  To  Pompey,  I 
read  the  story  of  "  Waste  not,  want  not."  To 
Julius,  on  the  other  hand,  I  spoke  of  the  All- 
love  of  his  great  Mother  Nature,  and  her  profuse 
gifts  to  her  children.  Leaving  him  with  grapes 
and  oranges,  I  stepped  back  to  Pompey,  and 
taught  him  how  to  untie  parcels  so  as  to  save 
the  string.  Leaving  him  winding  the  string 
neatly,  I  went  back  to  Julius,  and  gave  to  hiir 


THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY.  255 

ginger-cakes.  The  dear  boys  grew  from  year  to 
year.  They  outgrew  their  knickerbockers,  and 
had  trousers.  They  outgrew  their  jackets,  and 
became  men ;  and  I  felt  that  I  had  not  lived  in 
vain.  I  had  conquered  nature.  Pompey,  the 
little  spendthrift,  was  the  honored  cashier  of  a 
savings  bank,  till  he  ran  away  with  the  capital, 
Julius,  the  miser,  became  the  chief '  croupier  at 
the  New  Crockford's.  One  of  those  boys  is 
now  in  Botany  Bay,  and  the  other  is  in  Sierra 
Leone ! 

"  I  thought  you  were  going  to  say  in  a  hotter 
place,"  said  John  Blatchford;  and  he  told  his 
story :  — 

THE  STOKER'S  STORY. 

We  were  crossing  the  Atlantic  in  a  Cunarder. 
I  was  second  stoker  on  the  starboard  watch. 
In  that  horrible  gale  we  spoke  of  before  din 
ner,  the  coal  was  exhausted,  and  I,  as  the 
best-dressed  man,  was  sent  up  to  the  captain 
to  ask  what  we  should  do.  I  found  him 
himself  at  the  wheel.  He  almost  cursed  me 
and  bade  me  say  nothing  of  coal,  at  a  mo 
ment  when  he  must  keep  her  head  to  the 
wind  with  her  full  power,  or  we  were  lost.  He 


256  THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY. 

bade  me  slide  my  hand  into  his  pocket,  and  take 
out  the  key  of  the  after  freight-room,  open  that, 
and  use  the  contents  for  fuel.  I  returned  hastily 
to  the  engine-room,  and  we  did  as  we  were  bid. 
The  room  contained  nothing  but  old  account 
books,  which  made  a  hot  and  effective  fire. 

On  the  third  day  the  captain  came  down  him 
self  into  the  engine-room,  where  I  had  never 
seen  him  before',  called  me  aside,  and  told  me 
that  by  mistake  he  had  given  me  the  wrong 
key ;  asking  me  if  I  had  used  it.  I  pointed  to 
him  the  empty  room :  not  a  leaf  was  left.  He 
turned  pale  with  fright.  As  I  saw  his  emotion 
he  confided  to  me  the  truth.  The  books  were 
the  evidences  or  accounts  of  the  British  national 
debt ;  of  what  is  familiarly  known  as  the  Con 
solidated  Fund,  or  the  "  Consols."  They  had 
been  secretly  sent  to  New  York  for  the  exam 
ination  of  James  Fiske,  who  had  been  asked  to 
advance  a  few  millions  on  this  security  to  the 
English  Exchequer,  and  now  all  evidence  of 
indebtedness  was  gone ! 

The  captain  was  about  to  leap  into  the  sea. 
But  I  dissuaded  him.  I  told  him  to  say  nothing  ; 
I  would  keep  his  secret ;  no  man  else  knew  it. 
The  Government  would  never  utter  it.  It  was 


THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY.  257 

safe  in  our  hands.     He  reconsidered  his  purpose. 
We  came  safe  to  port  and  did  —  nothing. 

OiJy  on  the  first  quarter-day  which  followed, 
I  obtained  leave  of  absence,  and  visited  the 
Bank  of  England,  to  see  what  happened.  At 
the  door  was  this  placard,  — "  Applicants  for 
dividends  will  file  a  written  application,  with 
name  and  amount,  at  desk  A,  and  proceed  in 
turn  to  the  Paying  Teller's  Office."  I  saw  their 
ingenuity.  They  were  making  out  new  books, 
certain  that  none  would  apply  but  those  who 
were  accustomed  to.  So  skilfully  do  men  of 
Government  study  human  nature. 

I  stepped  lightly  to  one  of  the  public  desks. 
I  took  one  of  the  blanks.  I  filled  it  out,  "  John 
Blatchford,  £1747  6*.  Sd."  and  handed  it  in 
at  the  open  trap.  I  took  my  place  in  the  queue 
in  the  teller's  room.  After  an  agreeable  hour, 
a  pile,  not  thick,  of  Bank  of  England  notes  was 
given  to  me  ;  and  since  that  day  I  have  quar 
terly  drawn  that  amount  from  the  maternal 
government  of  that  country.  As  I  left  the 
teller's  room,  I  observed  the  captain  in  the 
queue.  He  was  the  seventh  man  from  the  win 
dow,  and  I  have  never  seen  him  more. 

We  then  asked  Hosanna  for  her  story. 
17 


258  THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY. 

THE  N.  E.  HISTORICAL  GENEALOGIST'S  STORY. 

"  My  story,"  said  she,  "  will  take  us  far  back 
into  the  past.  It  will  be  necessary  for  me  to 
dwell  on  some  incidents  in  the  first  settlement 
of  this  country,  and  I  propose  that  we  first  pre 
pare  and  enjoy  the  Christmas-tree.  After  this, 
if  your  courage  holds,  you  shall  hear  an  over- 
true  tale."  Pretty  creature,  how  little  she 
knew  what  was  before  us ! 

As  we  had  sat  listening  to  the  stories,  we  had 
been  preparing  for  the  tree.  Shopping  being 
out  of  the  question,  we  were  fain  from  our  own 
stores  to  make  up  our  presents,  while  the  women 
were  arranging  nuts,  and  blown  egg-shells,  and 
pop-corn  strings  from  the  stores  of  the  "  Eagle 
and  Star."  The  popping  of  corn  in  two  corn- 
poppers  had  gone  on  through  the  whole  of  the 
story-telling.  All  being  so  nearly  ready,  I  called 
the  drowsy  boy  again,  and,  showing  him  a  very 
large  stick  in  the  wood-box,  asked  him  to  bring 
me  a  hatchet.  To  my  great  joy  he  brought  the 
axe  of  the  establishment,  and  I  bade  him  fare 
well.  How  little  did  he  think  what  was  before 
him !  So  soon  as  he  had  gone  I  went  stealthily 
down  the  stairs,  and  stepping  out  into  the  deep 


THE  SUEVIVOR'S  STOKY.  259 

snow,  in  front  of  the  hotel,  looked  up  into  the 
lovely  night.  The  storm  had  ceased,  and  I 
could  see  far  back  into  the  heavens.  In  the 
still  evening  my  strokes  might  have  been  heard 
far  and  wide,  as  I  cut  down  one  of  the  two 
pretty  Norways  that  shaded  Mr.  Pynchon's 
front  walk,  next  the  hotel.  I  dragged  it  over 
the  snow.  Blatchford  and  Steele  lowered  sheets 
to  me  from  the  large  parlor  window,  which  I 
attached  to  the  larger  end  of  the  tree.  With 
infinite  difficulty  they  hauled  it  in.  I  joined 
them  in  the  parlor,  and  soon  we  had  as  stately 
a  tree  growing  there  as  was  in  any  home  of  joy 
that  night  in  the  river  counties. 

With  swift  fingers  did  our  wives  adorn  it.  I 
should  have  said  above,  that  we  travelled  with 
oiu*  wives,  and  that  I  would  recommend  that 
custom  to  others.  It  was  impossible,  under  the 
circumstances,  to  maintain  much  secrecy ;  but 
it  had  been  agreed  that  all  who  wished  to  turn 
their  backs  to  the  circle,  in  the  preparation  of 
presents,  might  do  so  without  offence  to  the 
others.  As  the  presents  were  wrapped,  one  by 
one,  in  paper  of  different  colors,  they  were 
marked  with  the  names  of  giver  and  receiver, 
and  placed  in  a  large  clothes-basket.  At  last 


260  THE  SURVIVOR'S  STOKY. 

all  was  done.  I  had  wrapped  up  my  knife,  my 
pencil-case,  my  letter-case,  for  Steele,  Blatch- 
ford,  and  Dick.  To  my  wife  I  gave  my  gold 
watch-key,  which  fortunately  fits  her  watch; 
to  Hosanna,  a  mere  trifle,  a  seal  ring  I  wore ;  to 
Bertha,  my  gold  chain;  and  to  Sarah  Blatch- 
ford,  the  watch  which  generally  hung  from  it. 
For  a  few  moments,  we  retired  to  our  rooms 
while  the  pretty  Hosanna  arranged  the  forty- 
nine  presents  on  the  tree.  Then  she  clapped 
her  hands,  and  we  rushed  in.  What  a  won 
drous  sight !  What  a  shout  of  infantine  laugh 
ter  and  charming  prattle !  for  in  that  happy 
moment  were  we  not  all  children  again  ? 

I  see  my  story  hurries  to  its  close.  Dick, 
who  is  the  tallest,  mounted  a  step-ladder,  and 
called  us  by  name  to  receive  our  presents.  I 
had  a  nice  gold  watch-key  from  Hosanna,  a 
knife  from  Steele,  a  letter-case  from  Phebe,  and 
a  pretty  pencil-case  from  Bertha.  Dick  had 
given  me  his  watch-chain,  which  he  knew  I 
fancied ;  Sarah  Blatchford,  a  little  toy  of  a 
Geneva  watch  she  wore ;  and  her  husband.,  a 
handsome  seal  ring,  a  present  to  him  from  the 
Czar,  I  believe;  Phebe,  that  is  my  wife,  —  for 
we  were  travelling  with  our  wives,  —  had  a 


THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY.  261 

pencil-case  from  Steele,  a  pretty  little  letter- 
case  from  Dick,  a  watch-key  from  me,  and  a 
French  repeater  from  Blatchford  ;  Sarah  Blatch- 
ford  gave  her  the  knife  she  carried,  with  some 
bright  verses,  saying  that  it  was  not  to  cut 
love ;  Bertha,  a  watch-chain  ;  and  Hosanna  a 
ring  of  turquoise  and  amethysts.  The  other 
presents  were  similar  articles,  and  were  received, 
as  they  were  given,  with  much  tender  feeling. 
But  at  this  moment,  as  Dick  was  on  the  top  of 
the  flight  of  steps,  handing  down  a  red  apple 
from  the  tree,  a  slight  catastrophe  occurred. 

The  first  I  was  conscious*  of  was  the  angry 
hiss  of  steam.  In  a  moment  I  perceived  that 
the  steam-boiler,  from  which  the  tavern  was 
warmed,  had  exploded.  The  floor  beneath  us 
rose,  and  we  were  driven  with  it  through  the 
ceiling  and  the  rooms  above,  —  through  an 
opening  in  the  roof  into  the  still  night.  Around 
us  in  the  air  were  flying  all  the  other  contents 
and  occupants  of  tfie  Star  and  Eagle.  How 
bitterly  was  I  reminded  of  Dick's  flight  from 
the  railroad  track  of  the  Ithaca  &  Owego  Rail 
road  !  But  I  could  not  hope  such  an  escape  as 
his.  Still  my  flight  was  in  a  parabola  ;  and,  in 
a  period  not  longer  than  it  has  taken  to  describe 


262  THE  SURVIVOR'S  STORY. 

it,  I  was  thrown  senseless,  at  last,  into  a  deep 
snow-bank  near  the  United  States  Arsenal. 

Tender  hands  lifted  me  and  assuaged  me. 
Tender  teams  carried  me  to  the  City  Hospital. 
Tender  eyes  brooded  over  me.  Tender  science 
cared  for  me.  It  proved  necessary,  -before  I 
recovered,  to  amputate  my  two  legs  at  the  hips. 
My  right  arm  was  wholly  removed,  by  a  delicate 
and  curious  operation,  from  the  socket.  We 
saved  the  stump  of  my  left  arm,  which  was  am 
putated  just  below  the  shoulder.  I  am  still  in 
the  hospital  to  recruit  my  strength.  The  doctor 
does  not  like  to  have  me  occupy  my  mind  at 
all ;  but  he  says  there  is  no  harm  in  my  compil 
ing  my  memoirs,  or  writing  magazine  stories. 
My  faithful  nurse  has  laid  me  on  my  breast  on 
a  pillow,  has  put  a  camel's-hair  pencil  in  my 
mouth,  and,  feeling  almost  personally  acquainted 
with  John  Carter,  the  artist,  I  have  written  out 
for  you,  in  his  method,  the  story  of  my  last 
Christmas. 

I  am  sorry  to  say  that  the  others  have  never 
been  found. 


THE  SAME  CHRISTMAS  IN  OLD  ENG 
LAND  AND  NEW. 


'THHE  first  Christmas  in  New  England  was 
celebrated  by  some  people  who  tried  as 
hard  as  they  could  not  to  celebrate  it  at  all. 
But  looking  back  on  that  year  1620,  the  first 
year  when  Christmas  was  celebrated  in  New 
England,  I  cannot  find  that  anybody  got  up  a 
better  fete  than  did  these  Lincolnshire  weavers 
and  ploughmen  who  had  got  a  little  taste  of 
Dutch  firmness,  and  resolved  on  that  particular 
day,  that,  whatever  else  happened  to  them,  they 
would  not  celebrate  Christmas  at  all. 

Here  is  the  story  as  William  Bradford  tells 
it: 

"  Ye  16.  day  ye  winde  came  faire,  and  they 
arrived  safe  in  this  harbor.  And  after  wards 
tooke  better  view  of  ye  place,  and  resolved  wher 
to  pitch  their  dwelling ;  and  ye  25.  day  begane 


264  THE   SAME   CHRISTMAS   IN 

to  erecte  ye  first  house  for  comone  use  to  receive 
them  and  their  goods." 

You  see,  dear  reader,  that  when  on  any  21st 
or  22d  of  December  you  give  the  children 
parched  corn,  and  let  them  pull  candy  and 
swim  candles  in  nut-shells  in  honor  of  the 
"  landing  of  the  Forefathers  "  —  if  by  good 
luck  you  be  of  Yankee  blood,  and  do  either  of 
these  praiseworthy  things  —  you  are  not  cele 
brating  the  anniversary  of  the  day  when  the 
women  and  children  landed,  wrapped  up  in 
water-proofs,  with  the  dog  and  John  Carver 
in  headpiece,  and  morion,  as  you  have  seen  in 
many  pictures.  That  all  came  afterward.  Be 
cool  and  self-possessed,  and  I  will  guide  you 
through  the  whole  chronology  safely  —  Old 
Style  and  New  Style,  first  landing  and  second 
landing,  Sabbaths  and  Sundays,  Carver's  land 
ing  and  Mary  Chilton's  landing,  so  that  you 
shall  know  as  much  as  if  you  had  fifteen  ances 
tors,  a  cradle,  a  tankard,  and  an  oak  chest  in 
the  Mayflower,  and  you  shall  come  out  safely 
and  happily  at  the  first  Christmas  day. 

Know  then,  that  when  the  poor  Maj^flower  at 
last  got  across  the  Atlantic,  Massachusetts 
stretched  out  her  right  arm  to  welcome  her,  and 


OLD   ENGLAND   AND   NEW.  265 

she  came  to  anchor  as  early  as  the  llth  of  No 
vember  in  Provincetown  Harbor.  This  was 
the  day  when  the  compact  of  the  cabin  of  the 
Mayflower  was  signed,  when  the  fiction  of  the 
"  social  compact "  was  first  made  real.  Here 
they  fitted  their  shallop,  and  in  this  shallop,  on 
the  sixth  of  December,  ten  of  the  Pilgrims  and 
six  of  the  ship's  crew  sailed  on  their  explora 
tion.  They  came  into  Plymouth  harbor  on  the 
tenth,  rested  on  Watson's  island  on  the  eleventh, 
—  which  was  Sunday,  —  and  on  Monday,  the 
twelfth,  landed  on  the  mainland,  stepping  on 
Plymouth  rock  and  marching  inland  to  explore 
the  country.  Add  now  nine  days  to  this  date 
for  the  difference  then  existing  between  Old 
Style  and  New  Style,  and  you  come  upon  the 
twenty-first  of  December,  which  is  the  day  you 
ought  to  celebrate  as  Forefathers'  Day.  On 
that  day  give  the  children  parched  corn  in  token 
of  the  new  provant,  the  English  walnut  in  token 
of  the  old,  and  send  them  to  bed  with  Elder 
Brewster's  name,  Mary  Chilton's,  Edward  Win- 
slew's,  and  John  Billington's,  to  dream  upon. 
Observe  still  that  only  these  ten  men  havo 
landed.  All  the  women  and  children  and  the 
other  men  are  over  in  Provincetown  harbor. 


266  THE   SAME   CHRISTMAS  IN 

These  ten,  liking  the  country  well  enough,  go 
across  the  bay  to  Provincetown  where  they  find 
poor  Bradford's  wife  drowned  in  their  absence, 
and.  bring  the  ship  across  into  Plymouth  harbor 
on  the  sixteenth.  Now  you  will  say  of  course 
that  they  were  so  glad  to  get  here  that  they 
began  to  build  at  once ;  but  you  are  entirely 
mistaken,  for  they  did  not  do  any  such  thing. 
There  was  a  little  of  the  John  Bull  about  them 
and  a  little  of  the  Dutchman.  The  seventeenth 
was  Sunday.  Of  course  they  could  not  build  a 
city  on  Sunday.  Monday,  they  explored,  and 
Tuesday  they  explored  more.  Wednesday, 

"  After  we  had  called  on  God  for  direction, 
we  came  to  this  resolution,  to  go  presently 
ashore  again,  and  to  take  a  better  view  of  two 
places,  which  we  thought  most  fitting  for  us ; 
for  we  could  not  now  take  time  for  further 
search  or  consideration,  our  victuals  being  much 
spent,  especially  our  beer." 

Observe,  this  is  the  Pilgrims'  or  Forefathers' 
beer,  and  not  the  beer  of  the  ship,  of  which 
there  was  still  some  store.  Acting  on  this  res 
olution  they  went  ashore  again,  and  concluded 
by  "  most  voices "  to  build  Plymouth  where 
Plymouth  now  is.  One  recommendation  seems 


OLD   ENGLAND   AND   NEW.  267 

to  have  been  that  there  was  a  good  deal  of  land 
already  clear.  But  this  brought  with  it  the 
counter  difficulty  that  they  had  to  go  half  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  for  their  wood.  So  there  they 
left  twenty  people  on  shore,  resolving  the  next 
day  to  come  and  build  their  houses.  But  the 
next  day  it  stormed,  and  the  people  on  shore 
had  to  come  back  to  the  ship,  and  Richard 
Britteridge  died.  And  Friday  it  stormed  so 
that  they  could  not  land,  and  the  people  on  the 
shallop  who  had  gone  ashore  the  day  before 
could  not  get  back  to  the  ship.  Saturday  was 
the  twenty-third,  as  they  counted,  and  some  of 
them  got  ashore  and  cut  timber  and  carried  it 
to  be  ready  for  building.  But  they  reserved 
their  forces  still,  and  Sunday,  the  twenty-fourth, 
no  one  worked  of  course.  So  that  when  Christ 
mas  day  came,  the  day  which  every  man,  woman 
and  child  of  them  had  been  trained  to  regard  as 
a  holy  day  —  as  a  day  specially  given  to  festivity 
and  specially  exempted  from  work,  all  who  could 
went  on  shore  and  joined  those  who  had  landed 
already.  So  that  William  Bradford  was  able  to 
close  the  first  book  of  his  history  by  saying : 
"  Ye  25.  day  begane  to  erect  ye  first  house  for 
comone  use  to  receive  them  and  their  goods." 


268  THE   SAME   CHRISTMAS   IN 

Now,  this  all  may  have  been  accidental.  1 
do  not  say  it  was  not.  But  when  I  come  to  the 
record  of  Christmas  for  next  year  and  find  that 
Bradford  writes:  "One  ye  day  called  Chris- 
mas-day,  ye  Gov'r  caled  them  out  to  worke  (as 
was  used),"  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  the 
leaders  had  a  grim  feeling  of  satisfaction  in 
"  secularizing  "  the  first  Christmas  as  thoroughly 
as  they  did.  They  wouldn't  work  on  Sunday, 
and  they  would  work  on  Christmas. 

They  did  their  best  to  desecrate  Christmas, 
and  they  did  it  by  laying  one  of  the  corner 
stones  of  an  empire. 

Now,  if  the  reader  wants  to  imagine  the 
scene,  —  the  Christmas  celebration  or  the  Christ 
mas  desecration,  he  shall  call  it  which  he  will, 
according  as  he  is  Roman  or  Puritan  himself,  — 
I  cannot  give  him  much  material  to  spin  his 
thread  from.  Here  is  the  little  story  in  the  lan 
guage  of  the  time : 

"  Munday  the  25.  day,  we  went  on  shore, 
some  to  fell  tymber,  some  to  saw,  some  to  riue, 
and  some  to  carry,  so  no  man  rested  all  that 
day,  but  towards  night  some  as  they  were  at 
worke,  heard  a  noyse  of  some  Indians,  which 
caused  vs  all  to  goe  to  our  Muskets,  but  we 


OLD  ENGLAND   AND   NEW.  269 

heard  no  further,  so  we  came  aboord  againe,  and 
left  some  twentie  to  keepe  the  court  of  gard ; 
that  night  we  had  a  sore  storme  of  winde  and 
rayne. 

"  Munday  the  25.  being  Christmas  day,  we 
began  to  drinke  water  aboord,  but  at  night  the 
Master  caused  vs  to  have  some  Beere,  and  so  on 
board  we  had  diverse  times  now  and  then  some 
Beere,  but  on  shore  none  at  all." 

There  is  the  story  as  it  is  told  by  the  only 
man  who  chose  to  write  it  down.  Let  us  not  at 
this  moment  go  into  an  excursus  to  inquire  who 
he  was  and  who  he  was  not.  Only  diligent 
investigation  has  shown  beside  that  this  first 
house  was  about  twenty  feet  square,  and  that  it 
was  for  their  common  use  to  receive  them  and 
their  goods.  The  tradition  says  that  it  was  on 
the  south  side  of  what  is  now  Leyden  street, 
near  the  declivity  of  the  hill.  What  it  was,  I 
think  no  one  pretends  to  say  absolutely.  I  am 
of  the  mind  of  a  dear  friend  of  mine,  who  used 
to  say  that,  in  the  hardships  of  those  first  strug 
gles,  these  old  forefathers  of  ours,  as  they 
gathered  round  the  fires  (which  they  did  have 
—  no  Christian  Registers  for  them  to  warm 
their  cold  hands  by),  used  to  pledge  themselves 


270  THE   SAME   CHRISTMAS  IN 

to  each  other  in  solemn  vows  that  they  would 
leave  to  posterity  no  detail  of  the  method  of 
their  lives.  Posterity  should  not  make  pictures 
out  of  them,  or,  if  it  did,  should  make  wrong 
ones  ;  which  accordingly,  posterity  has  done. 
What  was  the  nature,  then,  of  this  twenty-foot- 
square  store-house,  in  which,  afterward,  they 
used  to  sleep  pretty  compactly,  no  man  can  say. 
Dr.  Young  suggests  a  log  cabin,  but  I  do  not 
believe  that  the  log  cabin  was  yet  invented.  I 
think  it  is  more  likely  that  the  Englishmen 
rigged  their  two-handled  saws,  —  after  the 
fashion  known  to  readers  of  Sanford  and  Mer- 
ton  in  an  after  age,  —  and  made  plank  for  them 
selves.  The  material  for  imagination,  as  far  as 
costume  goes,  may  be  got  from  the  back  of  a 
fifty-dollar  national  bank-note,  which  the  well- 
endowed  reader  will  please  take  from  his  pocket, 
of  from  a  roll  of  Lorillard's  tobacco  at  his  side, 
on  which  he  will  find  the  good  reduction  of 
Weir's  admirable  picture  of  the  embarkation. 
Or,  if  the  reader  has  been  unsuccessful  in  his 
investment  in  Lorillard,  he  will  find  upon  the 
back  of  the  one-dollar  bank-note  a  reduced  copy 
of  the  fresco  of  the  "  Landing  "  in  the  C.apitol, 
which  will  answer  his  purpose  equally  well. 


OLD   ENGLAND   AND   NEW.  271 

Forty  or  fifty  Englishmen,  in  hats  and  doublets 
and  hose  of  that  fashion,  with  those  odd  English 
axes  that  you  may  see  in  your  ^Esop's  fable 
illustrations,  and  with  their  double-handled 
saws,  with  a  few  beetles,  and  store  of  wedges, 
must  make  up  your  tableau,  dear  reader.  Make 
it  vivant,  if  you  can. 

To  help  myself  in  the  matter,  I  sometimes 
group  them  on  the  bank  there  just  above  the 
brook,  —  you  can  see  the  place  to-day,  if  it  will 
do  you  any  good  —  at  some  moment  when  the 
women  have  come  ashore  to  see  how  the  work 
goes  on  —  and  remembering  that  Mrs.  Hemans 
says  "  they  sang  "  —  I  throw  the  women  all  in  a 
chorus  of  soprano  and  contralto  voices  on  the 
left,  Mrs.  Winslow  and  Mrs.  Carver  at  their 
head,  Mrs.  W.  as  prima  assoluta  soprano  and 
Mrs.  Carver  as  prima  assoluta  contralto,  —  I 
range  on  the  right  the  men  with  W.  Bradford 
and  W.  Brewster  as  leaders  —  and  between, 
facing  us,  the  audience,  —  who  are  lower  down 
in  the  valley  of  the  brook,  I  place  Giovanni 
Carver  (tenor)  and  Odoardo  Winslow  (basso) 
and  have  them  sing  in  the  English  dialect  of 
their  day, 

Suoni  la  tromba, 


272  THE   SAME   CHRISTMAS   IN 

Carver  waving  the  red-cross  flag  of  England, 
and  Winslow  swinging  a  broadaxe  above  his 
Head  in  similar  revolutions.  The  last  time  I  saw 
any  Puritans  doing  this  at  the  opera,  one  had  a 
star-spangled  banner  and  the  other  an  Italian 
tricolor, — but  I  am  sure  my  placing  on  the 
stage  is  more  accurate  than  that.  But  I  find  it 
very  hard  to  satisfy  myself  that  this  is  the  cor 
rect  idealization.  Yet  Mrs.  Hemans  says  the 
songs  were  "  songs  of  lofty  cheer,"  which  pre 
cisely  describes  the  duet  in  Puritani. 

It  would  be  an  immense  satisfaction,  if  by 
palimpsest  under  some  old  cash-book  of  that 
century,  or  by  letters  dug  out  from  some  family 
collection  in  England,  one  could  just  discover 
that  "  John  Billington,  having  become  weary 
with  cutting  down  a  small  fir-tree  which  had 
been  allotted  to  him,  took  his  snaphance  and 
shot  with  him,  and  calling  a  dog  he  had,  to 
whom  in  the  Low  Countries  the  name  Crab  had 
been  given,  went  after  fowle.  Crossing  the 
brook  and  climbing  up  the  bank  to  an  open 
place  which  was  there,  he  found  what  had  been 
left  by  the  savages  of  one  of  their  gardens,  — 
and  on  the  ground,  picking  at  the  stalkes  of  the 
corne,  a  flocke  of  large  blacke  birds  such  as  he 


OLD   ENGLAND   AND   NEW.  273 

had  never  seen  before.  His  dogge  ran  at  them 
and  frightened  them,  and  they  all  took  wing 
heavily,  but  not  so  quick  but  that  Billington  let 
fly  at  them  and  brought  two  of  them  down,  — 
one  quite  dead  and  one  hurt  so  badly  that  he 
could  not  fly.  Billington  killed  them  both  and 
tyed  them  together,  and  following  after  the 
flocke  had  another  shot  at  them,  and  by  a  good 
Providence  hurte  three  more.  He  tyed  two  of 
these  together  and  brought  the  smallest  back  to 
us,  not  knowing  what  he  brought,  being  but  a 
poor  man  and  ignorant.  Hee  is  but  a  lazy 
Fellowe,  and  was  sore  tired  with  the  weight  of 
his  burden,  which  was  nigh  fortie  pounds.  Soe 
soon  as  he  saw  it,  the  Governour  and  the  rest 
knew  that  it  was  a  wild  Turkic,  and  albeit  he 
chid  Billington  sharply,  he  sent  four  men  with 
him,  as  it  were  Calebs  and  Joshuas,  to  bring  in 
these  firstlings  of  the  land.  They  found  the 
two  first  and  brought  them  to  us  ;  but  after  a 
long  search  they  could  not  find  the  others,  and 
soe  gave  them  up,  saying  the  wolves  must  have 
eaten  them.  There  were  some  that  thought 
John  Billington  had  never  seen  them  either, 
but  had  shot  them  with  a  long  bowe.  Be  this 
as  it  may,  Mistress  Winslow  and  the  other 
18 


274  THE   SAME   CHRISTMAS   IN 

women  stripped  them  they  had,  cleaned  them, 
spytted  them,  basted  them,  and  roasted  them, 
and  thus  we  had  fresh  foule  to  our  dinner." 

I  say  it  would  have  been  very  pleasant  to 
have  found  this  in  some  palimpsest,  but  if  it  is 
in  the  palimpsest,  it  has  not  yet  been  found. 
As  the  Arab  proverb  says,  "  There  is  news,  biit 
it  has  not  yet  come." 

I  have  failed,  in  just  the  same  way,  to  find  a 
letter  from  that  rosy-cheeked  little  child  you 
see  in  Sargent's  picture,  looking  out  of  her 
great  wondering  eyes,  under  her  warm  hood, 
into  the  desert.  I  overhauled  a  good  many  of 
the  Cotton  manuscripts  in  the  British  Museum 
(Otho  and  Caligula,  if  anybody  else  wants  to 
look),  and  Mr.  Sainsbury  let  me  look  through 
all  the  portfolios  I  wanted  in  the  State  Paper 
Office,  and  I  am  sure  the  letter  was  not  there 
then.  If  anybody  has  found  it,  it  has  been 
found  since  I  was  there.  If  it  ever  is  found,  I 
should  like  to  have  it  contain  the  following 
statement :  — 

"  We  got  tired  of  playing  by  the  fire,  and  so 
some  of  us  ran  down  to  the  brook,  and  walked 
till  we  could  find  a  place  to  cross  it;  and  so 
came  up  to  a  meadow  as  large  as  the  common 


OLD   ENGLAND   AND  NEW.  275 

in  Leyden.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  ice 
upon  it  in  some  places,  but  in  some  places 
behind,  where  there  were  bushes,  we  found 
good  store  of  berries  growing  on  the  ground.  I 
filled  my  apron,  and  William  took  off  his  jerkin 
and  made  a  bag  of  it,  and  we  all  filled  it  to 
carry  up  to  the  fire.  But  they  were  so  sour, 
that  they  puckered  our  mouths  sadly.  But  my 
mother  said  they  were  cranberries,  but  not  like 
your  cranberries  in  Lincolnshire.  And,  having 
some  honey  in  one  of  the  logs  the  men  cut 
down,  she  boiled  the  cranberries  and  the  honey 
together,  and  after  it  was  cold  we  had  it  with 
our  dinner.  And  besides,  there  were  some 
great  pompions  which  the  men  had  brought 
with  them  from  the  first  place  we  landed  at, 
which  were  not  like  Cinderella's,  but  had  long 
tails  to  them,  and  of  these  my  mother  and  Mrs. 
Brewster  and  Mrs.  Warren,  made  pies  for  din 
ner.  We  found  afterwards  that  the  Indians 
called  these  pompions,  askuta  squash."" 

But  this  letter,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  has  not 
yet  been  found. 

Whether  they  had  roast  turkey  for  Christmas 
I  do  not  know.  I  do  know,  thanks  to  the 
recent  discovery  of  the  old  Bradford  manu- 


276  THE   SAME   CHRISTMAS  IN 

script,  that  they  did  have  roast  turkey  at  their 
first  Thanksgiving.  The  veritable  history,  like 
so  much  more  of  it,  alas !  is  the  history  of  what 
they  had  not,  instead  of  the  history  of  what  they 
had.  Not  only  did  they  work  on  the  day  when 
all  their  countrymen  played,  but  they  had  only 
water  to  drink  on  the  day  when  all  their  coun 
trymen  drank  beer.  This  deprivation  of  beer  is 
a  trial  spoken  of  more  than  once  ;  and,  as  lately 
as  1824,  Mr.  Everett,  in  his  Pilgrim  oration, 
brought  it  in  high  up  in  the  climax  of  the  cata 
logue  of  their  hardships.  How  many  of  us  in 
our  school  declamations  have  stood  on  one  leg, 
as  bidden  in  "  Lovell's  Speaker,"  raised  the 
hand  of  the  other  side  to  an  angle  of  forty-five 
degrees,  as  also  bidden,  and  repeated,  as  also 
bidden,  not  to  say  compelled,  the  words,  "  I  see 
them,  escaped  from  these  perils,  pursuing  theii 
almost  desperate  undertaking,  and  landed  at 
last,  after  a  five-months'  passage,  on  the  ice-clad 
rocks  of  Plymouth,  weak  and  exhausted  from 
the  voyage,  poorly  armed,  scantily  provisioned, 
depending  on  the  charity  of  their  ship-master 
for  a  draught  of  beer  on  board,  drinking  nothing 
but  water  on  shore,  without  shelter,  without 
means,  surrounded  by  hostile  tribes." 


OLD   ENGLAND   AND   NEW.  277 

Little  did  these  men  of  1620  think  that  the 
time  would  come  when  ships  would  go  round 
the  world  without  a  can  of  beer  on  board ;  that 
armies  would  fight  through  years  of  war  with 
out  a  ration  of  beer  or  of  spirit,  and  that  the 
builders  of  the  Lawrences  and  Vinelands,  the 
pioneer  towns  of  a  new  Christian  civilization, 
would  put  the  condition  into  the  title-deeds  of 
their  property  that  nothing  should  be  sold  there 
which  could  intoxicate  the  buyer.  Poor  fellows ! 
they  missed  the  beer,  I  am  afraid,  more  than 
they  did  the  play  at  Christmas ;  and  as  they 
had  not  yet  learned  how  good  water  is  for  a 
bteady  drink,  the  carnal  mind  almost  rejoices 
that  when  they  got  on  board  that  Christmas  night, 
the  curmudgeon  ship-master,  warmed  up  by  his 
Christmas  jollifications,  for  he  had  no  scruples, 
treated  to  beer  all  round,  as  the  reader  has  seen. 
With  that  tankard  of  beer  —  as  those  who  went 
on  board  filled  it,  passed  it,  and  refilled  it  — 
ends  the  history  of  the  first  Christmas  in  New 
England. 

It  is  a  very  short  story,  and  yet  it  is  the 
longest  history  of  that  Christmas  that  I  have 
been  able  to  find.  I  wanted  to  compare  this 


278  THE   SAME   CHRISTMAS  IN 

celebration  of  Christmas,  grimly  intended  for 
its  desecration,  with  some  of  the  celebrations 
which  were  got  up  with  painstaking  intention. 
But,  alas,  pageants  leave  little  history,  after  the 
lights  have  smoked  out,  and  the  hangings  have 
been  taken  away.  Leaving,  for  the  moment, 
King  James's  Christmas  and  Englishmen,  I 
thought  it  would  be  a  pleasant  thing  to  study 
the  contrast  of  a  Christmas  in  the  countries 
where  they  say  Christmas  has  its  most  enthusi 
astic  welcome.  So  I  studied  up  the  war  in  the 
Palatinate,  —  I  went  into  the  chronicles  of  Spain, 
where  I  thought  they  would  take  pains  about 
Christmas,  —  I  tried  what  the  men  of  "  la  re 
ligion,"  the  Huguenots,  were  doing  at  Rochelle, 
where  a  great  assembly  was  gathering.  But 
Christmas  day  would  not  appear  in  memoirs  or 
annals.  I  tried  Rome  and  the  Pope,  but  he  was 
dying,  like  the  King  of  Spain,  and  had  not,  I 
think,  much  heart  for  pageantry.  I  looked  in 
at  Vienna,  where  they  had  all  been  terribly 
frightened  by  Bethlem  Gabor,  who  was  a  great 
Transylvanian  prince  of  those  days,  a  sort  of 
successful  Kossuth,  giving  much  hope  to  be 
leaguered  Protestants  farther  west,  who,  I 
believe,  thought  for  a  time  that  he  was  some 


OLD   ENGLAND   AND  NEW.  279 

sort  of  seal  or  trumpet,  which,  however,  he  did 
not  prove  to  be.  At  this  moment  of  time  he 
was  retreating  I  am  afraid,  and  at  all  events  did 
not  set  his  historiographer  to  work  describing 
his  Christmas  festivities. 

Passing  by  Bethlem  Gabor  then,  and  the  rest, 
from  mere  failure  of  their  chronicles  to  make 
note  of  this  Christmas  as  it  passed,  I  returned 
to  France  in  my  quest.  Louis  XIII.  was  at  this 
time  reigning  with  the  assistance  of  Luynes,  the 
short-lived  favorite  who  preceded  Richelieu.  Or 
it  would,  perhaps,  be  more  proper  to  say  that 
Luynes  was  reigning  under  the  name  of  Louis 
XIII.  Louis  XIII.  had  been  spending  the  year 
in  great  activity,  deceiving,  thwarting,  and  un 
doing  the  Protestants  of  France.  He  had  made 
a  rapid  march  into  their  country,  and  had  spread 
terror  before  him.  He  had  had  mass  celebrated 
in  Navarreux,  where  it  had  not  been  seen  or 
heard  in  fifty  years.  With  Bethlem  Gabor  in 
the  ablative,  —  with  the  Palatinate  quite  in  the 
vocative,  — these  poor  Huguenots  here  outwitted 
and  outgeneralled,  and  Brewster  and  Carver 
freezing  out  there  in  America,  the  Reformed 
Religion  seems  in  a  bad  way  to  one  looking  at 
that  Christmas.  From  his  triumphal  and  almost 


280  THE   SAME   CHRISTMAS  IN 

bloodless  campaign,  King  Louis  returns  to  Paris, 
"  and  there,"  says  Bassompierre,  "  he  celebrated 
the  fetes  this  Christmas."  So  I  thought  I  was 
going  to  find  in  the  memoirs  of  some  gentleman 
at  court,  or  unoccupied  mistress  of  the  robes,  an 
account  of  what  the  most  Christian  King  was 
doing,  while  the  blisters  were  forming  on  Jcihn 
Carver's  hands,  and  while  John  Billington  was, 
or  was  not,  shooting  wild  turkeys  on  that  event 
ful  Christmas  day. 

But  I  reckoned  without  my  king.  For  this  is 
all  a  mistake,  and  whatever  else  is  certain,  it  seems 
to  be  certain  that  King  Louis  XIII.  did  not  keep 
either  Christmas  in  Paris,  either  the  Christmas 
of  the  Old  Style,  or  that  of  the  New.  Such, 
alas,  is  history,  dear  friend  I  When  you  read  in 
to-night's  "  Evening  Post "  that  your  friend 
Dalrymple  is  appointed  Minister  to  Russia, 
where  he  has  been  so  anxious  to  go,  do  not  sup 
pose  he  will  make  you  his  Secretary  of  Legation. 
Alas !  no ;  for  you  will  read  in  to-morrow's 
"  Times  "  that  it  was  all  a  mistake  of  the  tele 
graph,  and  that  the  dispatch  should  have  read 
"  O'Shaughnessy,"  where  the  dispatch  looked 
like  "Dalrymple."  So  here,  as  I  whetted  my 
pencil,  wetted  my  lips,  and  drove  the  attentive 


OLD   ENGLAND   AND   NEW.  281 

librarian  at  the  Astor  almost  frantic  as  I  sent 
him  up  stairs  for  you  five  times  more,  it  proved 
that  Louis  XIII.  did  not  spend  Christmas  in 
Paris,  but  that  Bassompierre,  who  said  so,  was  a 
vile  deceiver.  Here  is  the  truth  in  the  Mercure 
Frangaise, —  flattering  and  obsequious  Annual 
Register  of  those  days  : 

"  The  King  at  the  end  of  this  year,  visited  the 
frontiers  of  Picardy.  In  this  whole  journey, 
which  lasted  from  the  14th  of  December  to  the 
12th  of  January  (New  Style),  the  weather  was 
bad,  and  those  in  his  Majesty's  suite  found  the 
roads  bad."  Change  the  style  back  to  the  way 
our  Puritans  counted  it,  and  observe  that  on  the 
same  days,  the  5th  of  December  to  the  3d  of 
January,  Old  Style,  those  in  the  suite  of  John 
Carver  found  the  weather  bad  and  the  roads 
worse.  Let  us  devoutly  hope  that  his  most 
Christian  Majesty  did  not  find  the  roads  as  bad 
as  his  suite  did. 

"  And  the  King,"  continues  the  Mercure, 
"  sent  an  extraordinary  Ambassador  to  the  King 
of  Great  Britain,  at  London,  the  Marshal  Cade- 
net"  (brother  of  the  favorite  Luynes).  "He 
departed  from  Calais  on  Friday,  the  first  day  of 
January,  very  well  accompanied  by  noblesse. 


282  THE   SAME   CHRISTMAS   IN 

He  arrived  at  Dover  the  same  evening,  and  did 
not  depart  from  Dover  until  the  Monday  after." 

Be  pleased  to  note,  dear  reader,  that  this  Mon 
day,  when  this  Ambassador  of  a  most  Christian 
King  departs  from  Dover,  is  on  Monday  the 
25th  day  of  December,  of  Old  Style,  or  Protes 
tant  Style,  when  John  Carver  is  learning  wood 
cutting,  by  way  of  encouraging  the  others.  Let 
us  leave  the  King  of  France  to  his  bad  roads, 
and  follow  the  fortunes  of  the  favorite's  brother, 
for  we  must  study  an  English  Christmas  after 
all.  We  have  seen  the  Christmas  holidays  of 
men  who  had  hard  times  for  the  reward  of  their 
faith  in  the  Star  of  Bethlehem.  Let  us  try  the 
fortunes  of  the  most  Christian  King's  people,  as 
they  keep  their  second  Christmas  of  the  year 
among  a  Protestant  people.  Observe  that  a 
week  after  their  own  Christmas  of  New  Style, 
they  land  in  Old  Style  England,  where  Christ 
mas  has  not  yet  begun.  Here  is  the  Mercure 
Franfais's  account  of  the  Christmas  holidays,  — 
flattering  and  obsequious,  as  I  said : 

"  Marshal  Cadenet  did  not  depart  from  Dover 
till  the  Monday  after"  (Christmas  day,  O.  S.). 
"  The  English  Master  of  Ceremonies  had  sent 
twenty  carriages  and  three  hundred  horses  for 


OLD   ENGLAND   AND   NEW.  283 

his  suite."  (If  only  we  could  have  ten  of  the 
worst  of  them  at  Plymouth  !  They  would  have 
drawn  our  logs  for  us  that  half  quarter  of  a  mile. 
But  we  were  not  born  in  the  purple!)  "He 
slept  at  Canterbury,  where  the  Grand  Seneschal 
of  England,  well  accompanied  by  English  noble 
men,  received  him  on  the  part  of  the  King  of 
England.  Wherever  he  passed,  the  officers  of 
the  cities  made  addresses  to  him,  and  offers,  even 
ordering  their  own  archers  to  march  before  him 
and  guard  his  lodgings.  When  he  came  to 
Gravesend,  the  Earl  of  Arundel  visited  him  on 
the  part  of  the  King,  and  led  him  to  the  Royal 
barge.  His  whole  suite  entered  into  twenty-five 
other  barges,  painted,  hung  with  tapestry,  and 
well  adorned  "  (think  of  our  poor,  rusty  shallop 
there  in  Plymouth  bay),  "  in  which,  ascending 
the  Thames,  they  arrived  in  London  Friday  the 
29th  December  "  (January  8th,  N.  S.).  "  On 
disembarking,  the  Ambassador  was  led  by  the 
Earl  of  Arundel  to  the  palace  of  the  late  Queen, 
which  had  been  superbly  and  magnificently  ar 
ranged  for  him.  The  day  was  spent  in  visits  on 
the  part  of  his  Majesty  the  King  of  Great  Brit 
ain,  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  his  son,  and  of  the 
ambassadors  of  kings  and  princes,  residing  in 


284  THE   SAME   CHRISTMAS   IN 

London."  So  splendidly  was  he  entertained, 
that  they  write  that  on  the  day  of  his  reception 
he  had  four  tables,  with  fifty  covers  each,  and 
that  the  Duke  of  Lennox,  Grand  Master  of 
England,  served  them  with  magnificent  order. 

"  The  following  Sunday "  (which  we  could 
not  spend  on  shore),  "he  was  conducted  to  an 
audience  by  the  Marquis  of  Buckingham,"  (for 
shame,  Jamie !  an  audience  on  Sunday !  what 
would  John  Knox  have  said  to  that !)  "  where 
the  French  and  English  nobility  were  dressed  as 
for  a  great  feast  day.  The  whole  audience  was 
conducted  with  great  respect,  honor,  and  cere 
mony.  The  same  evening,  the  King  of  Great 
Britain  sent  for  the  Marshal  by  the  Marquis  of 
1  Buckingham  and  the  Duke  of  Lennox ;  and  his 
Majesty  and  the  Ambassador  remained  alone  for 
more  than  two  hours,  without  any  third  person 
hearing  what  they  said.  The  following  days 
were  all  receptions,  banquets,  visits,  and  hunt 
ing-parties,  till  the  embassy  departed." 

That  is  the  way  history  gets  written  by  a  flat 
tering  and  obsequious  court  editor  or  organ  at 
the  time.  That  is  the  way,  then,  that  the  dread 
sovereign  of  John  Carver  and  Edward  Winslow 
spent  his  Christmas  holidays,  while  they  were 


OLD   ENGLAND   AND   NEW.  285 

spending  theirs  in  beginning  for  him  an  empire. 
Dear  old  William  Brewster  used  to  be  a  servant 
of  Davison's  in  the  days  of  good  Queen  Bess. 
As  he  blows  his  fingers  there  in  the  twenty-foot 
storehouse  before  it  is  roofed,  does  he  tell  the 
rest  sometimes  of  the  old  wassail  at  court,  and 
the  Christmas  when  the  Earl  of  Southampton 
brought  Will.  Shakespeare  in  ?  Perhaps  those 
things  are  too  gay,  —  at  all  events,  we  have  as 
much  fuel  here  as  they  have  at  St.  James's. 

Of  this  precious  embassy,  dear  reader,  there 
is  not  a  word,  I  think,  in  Hume,  or  Lingard,  or 
the  "Pictorial" — still  less,  if  possible,  in  the 
abridgments.  Would  you  like,  perhaps,  after 
this  truly  elegant  account  thus  given  by  a  court 
editor,  to  look  behind  the  canvas  and  see  the 
rough  ends  of  the  worsted  ?  I  always  like  to. 
It  helps  me  to  understand  my  morning  "  Adver 
tiser"  or  my  "Evening  Post,"  as  I  read  the 
editorial  history  of  to-day.  If  you  please,  we 
will  begin  in  the  Domestic  State  Papers  of  Eng 
land,  which  the  good  sense  of  somebody,  I  be 
lieve  kind  Sir  Francis  Palgrave,  has  had  opened 
for  you  and  me  and  the  rest  of  us. 
Here  is  the  first  notice  of  the  embassy  : 
Dec.  13.  Letter  from  Sir  Robeit  Naunton 


286  THE   SAME   CHRISTMAS  IN 

to  Sir  George  Calvert.  ..."  The  King  of 
France  is  expected  at  Calais.  The  Marshal  of 
Cadenet  is  to  be  sent  over  to  calumniate  those 
of  the  religion  (that  is,  the  Protestants),  and 
to  propose  Madme.  Henriette  for  the  Prince." 

So  they  knew,  it  seems,  ten  days  before  we 
started,  what  we  were  coming  for. 

Dec.  22.  John  Chamberlain  to  Sir  Dudley 
Carleton.  "  In  spite  of  penury,  there  is  to  be  a 
masque  at  Court  this  Christmas.  The  King  is 
coming  in  from  Theobalds  to  receive  the  French 
Ambassador,  Marshal  Cadenet,  who  comes  with 
a  suite  of  400  or  500." 

What  was  this  masque?  Could  not  Mr. 
Payne  Collier  find  up  the  libretto,  perhaps? 
Was  it  Faith,  Valor,  Hope,  and  Love,  founding 
a  kingdom,  perhaps?  Faith  with  a  broadaxe, 
Valor  and  Hope  with  a  two-handled  saw,  while 
Love  dug  post-holes  and  set  up  timbers  ?  Or 
was  it  a  less  appropriate  masque  of  King  James' 
devising  ? 

Dec.  25.  This  is  our  day.  Francis  Willis- 
fourd,  Governor  of  Dover  Castle  to  Lord  Zouch, 
Warden  of  the  Cinque  Ports.  "  A  French 
Ambassador  has  landed  with  a  great  train.  I 
have  not  fired  a  salute,  having  no  instructions, 


OLD   ENGLAND   AND   NEW.  287 

and  declined  showing  them  the  fortress.  They 
are  entertained  as  well  as  the  town  can  afford." 

Observe,  we  are  a  little  surly.  We  do  not 
like  the  French  King  very  well,  our  own  King's 
daughter  being  in  such  straits  yonder  in  the 
Palatinate.  What  do  these  Papists  here  ? 

That  is  the  only  letter  written  on  Christmas 
day  in  the  English  "  Domestic  Archives "  for 
that  year !  Christmas  is  for  frolic  here,  not  for 
letter- writing,  nor  house-building,  if  one's  houses 
be  only  built  already  ! 

But  on  the  27th,  Wednesday,  "  Lord  Arundel 
has  gone  to  meet  the  French  Ambassador  at 
Gravesend."  And  a  very  pretty  time  it  seems 
they  had  at  Gravesend,  when  you  look  on  the 
back  of  the  embroidery.  Arundel  called  on 
Cadenet  at  his  lodgings,  and  Cadenet  did  not 
meet  him  till  he  came  to  the  stair  —  head  of  his 
chamber-door  —  nor  did  he  accompany  him  fur 
ther  when  he  left.  But  Arundel  was  even  with 
him  the  next  morning.  He  appointed  his  meet 
ing  for  the  return  call  in  the  street;  and  when 
the  barges  had  come  up  to  Somerset  House, 
where  the  party  was  to  stay,  Arundel  left  the 
Ambassador,  telling  him  that  there  were  gentle 
men  who  would  show  him  his  lodging.  The 


288  THE   SAME   CHRISTMAS   IN 

King  was  so  angry  that  he  made  Cadenet  apolo 
gize.  Alas  for  the  Court  of  Governor  John 
Carver  on  this  side,  —  four  days  old  to-day  —  if 
Massasoit  should  send  us  an  ambassador !  We 
shall  have  to  receive  him  in  the  street,  unless  he 
likes  to  come  into  a  palace  without  a  roof !  But, 
fortunately,  he  does  not  send  till  we  are  ready ! 
The  Domestic  Archives  give  another  glimpse : 
Dec.  30.  Thomas  Locke  to  Carletoii :  "  The 
French  Ambassador  has  arrived  at  Somerset 
House  with  a  train  so  large  that  some  of  the 
seats  at  Westminster  Hall  had  to  be  pulled 
down  to  make  room  at  their  audience."  And 
in  letters  from  the  same  to  the  same,  of  January 
7,  are  accounts  of  entertainments  given  to  the 
Ambassador  at  his  first  audience  (on  that  Sun 
day),  on  the  4th  at  Parliament  House,  on  the 
6th  at  a  masque  at  Whitehall,  where  none  were 
allowed  below  the  rank  of  a  Baron  —  and  at 
Lord  Doncaster's  entertainment  —  where  "six 
thousand  ounces  of  gold  are  set  out  as  a  present," 
says  the  letter,  but  this  I  do  not  believe.  At 
the  Hampton  entertainment,  and  at  the  masque 
there  were  some  disputes  about  precedency,  says 
John  Chamberlain  in  another  letter.  Dear  John 
Chamberlain,  where  are  there  not  such  disputes  ? 


OLD   ENGLAND   AND   NEW.  289 

At  the  masque  at  Whitehall  he  says,  "  a  Puritan 
was  flouted  and  abused,  which  was  thought 
unseemly,  considering  the  state  of  the  French 
Protestants."  Let  the  Marshal  come  over  to 
Gov.  John  Carver's  court  and  see  one  of  our 
masques  there,  if  he  wants  to  know  about 
Puritans.  "  At  Lord  Doncaster's  house  the 
feast  cost  three  thousand  pounds,  beside  three 
hundred  pounds  worth  of  ambergris  used  in  the 
cooking,"  nothing  about  that  six  thousand 
ounces  of  gold.  "  The  Ambassador  had  a  long 
private  interview  with  the  king ;  it  is  thought 
he  proposed  Mad.  Henriette  for  the  Prince. 
He  left  with  a  present  of  a  rich  jewel.  He 
requested  liberation  of  all  the  imprisoned  priests 
in  the  three  kingdoms,  but  the  answer  is  not 
yet  given." 

By  the  eleventh  of  January  the  embassy  had 
gone,  and  Thomas  Locke  says  Cadenet  "  received 
a  round  answer  about  the  Protestants."  Let 
us  hope  it  was  so,  for  it  was  nearly  the  last,  as 
it  was.  Thomas  Murray  writes  that  he  "  pro 
posed  a  match  with  France,  —  a  confederation 
against  Spanish  power,  and  asked  his  Majesty 
to  abandon  the  rebellious  princes,  —  but  he  re 
fused  unless  they  might  have  toleration."  The 

19 


290  THE   SAME   CHRISTMAS   IN 

Ambassador  was  followed  to  Rochester  for  the 
debts  of  some  of  his  train,  —  but  got  well  home 
to  Paris  and  New  Style. 

And  so  he  vanishes  from  English  history. 

His  king  made  him  Duke  of  Chaulnes  and 
Peer  of  France,  but  his  brother,  the  favorite 
died  soon  after,  either  of  a  purple  fever  or  of  a 
broken  heart,  and  neither  of  them  need  trouble 
us  more. 

At  the  moment  the  whole  embassy  seemed  a 
failure  in  England,  —  and  so  it  is  spoken  of  by 
all  the  English  writers  of  the  time  whom  I  have 
seen.  "  There  is  a  flaunting  French  Ambas 
sador  come  over  lately,"  says  Howel,  "  and  I 
believe  his  errand  is  naught  else  but  compliment. 
...  He  had  an  audience  two  days  since,  where 
he,  with  his  tram  of  ruffling  long-haired  Mon- 
sieurs,  carried  himself  in  such  a  light  garb,  that 
after  the  audience  the  king  asked  my  Lord 
Keeper  Bacon  what  he  thought  of  the  French 
Ambassador.  He  answered,  that  he  was  a  tall, 
proper  man.  'Aye,'  his  Majesty  replied,  'but 
what  think  you  of  his  head-piece  ?  Is  he  a 
proper  man  for  the  office  of  an  ambassador  ? ' 
'  Sir,'  said  Bacon,  '  tall  men  are  like  houses  of 


OLD   ENGLAND   AND  NEW.  291 

four  or  five  stories,  wherein  commonly  the 
uppermost  room  is  worst  furnished.' ' 

Hard,  this,  on  us  poor  six-footers.  One  need 
not  turn  to  the  biography  after  this,  to  guess 
that  the  philosopher  was  five  feet  four. 

I  think  there  was  a  breeze,  and  a  cold  one, 
all  the  tune,  between  the  embassy  and  the 
English  courtiers.  I  could  tell  you  a  good 
many  stories  to  show  this,  but  I  would  give 
them  all  for  one  anecdote  of  what  Edward 
Winslow  said  to  Madam  Carver  on  Christmas 
evening.  They  thought  it  all  naught  because 
they  did  not  know  what  would  come  of  it. 
We  do  know. 

And  I  wish  you  to  observe,  all  the  time, 
beloved  reader,  whom  I  press  to  my  heart  for 
your  steadiness  in  perusing  so  far,  and  to  whom 
I  would  give  a  jewel  had  I  one  worthy  to  give, 
hi  token  of  my  consideration  (how  you  would 
like  a  Royalston  beryl  or  an  Attleboro  topaz).* 

*  Mrs.  Hemans  says  they  did  not  seek  "  bright  jewels  of  the 
mine/'  which  was  fortunate,  as  they  would  not  have  found 
them.  Attleboro  is  near  Plymouth  Rock,  but  its  jewels  are 
not  from  mines.  The  beryls  of  Royalston  are,  but  they  are 
far  away.  Other  good  mined  jewels,  I  think,  New  England 
has  none.  He/  garnets  are  poor,  and  I  have  yet  seen  no  good 
amethysts. 


292  THE  SAME   CHBISTMAS  IN 

I  wish  you  to  observe,  I  say,  that  on  the 
Christmas  tide,  when  the  Forefathers  began 
New  England,  Charles  and  Henrietta  were  first 
proposed  to  each  other  for  that  fatal  union. 
Charles,  who  was  to  be  Charles  the  First,  and 
Henrietta,  who  was  to  be  mother  of  Charles  the 
Second,  and  James  the  Second.  So  this  was 
the  time,  when  were  first  proposed  all  the  pre 
cious  intrigues  and  devisings,  which  led  to 
Charles  the  Second,  James  the  Second,  James 
the  Third,  so  called,  and  our  poor  friend  the 
Pretender.  Civil  war  —  Revolution  — 1715  — 
1745  —  Preston-Pans,  Falkirk  and  Culloden  — 
all  are  in  the  dispatches  Cadenet  carries  ashore 
at  Dover,  while  we  are  hewing  our  timbers  at 
the  side  of  the  brook  at  Plymouth,  and  making 
our  contribution  to  Protestant  America. 

On  the  one  side  Christmas  is  celebrated  by 
fifty  outcasts  chopping  wood  for  their  fires  — 
and  out  of  the  celebration  springs  an  empire. 
On  the  other  side  it  is  celebrated  by  the  noblesse 
of  two  nations  and  the  pomp  of  two  courts. 
And  out  of  the  celebration  spring  two  civil  wars, 
the  execution  of  one  king  and  the  exile  of 
another,  the  downfall  twice  repeated  of  the 
royal  house,  which  came  to  the  English  throne 


OLD   ENGLAND   AND   NEW.  298 

under  fairer  auspices  than  ever.  The  whole  as 
we  look  at  it  is  the  tale  of  ruin.  Those  are  the 
only  two  Christmas  celebrations  of  that  year 
that  I  have  found  anywhere  written  down ! 

You  will  not  misunderstand  the  moral,  dear 
reader,  if,  indeed,  you  exist ;  if  at  this  point 
there  be  any  reader  beside  him  who  corrects  the 
proof!  Sublime  thought  of  the  solemn  silence 
in  which  these  words  may  be  spoken !  You  will 
not  misunderstand  the  moral.  It  is  not  that  it 
is  better  to  work  on  Christmas  than  to  play. 
It  is  not  that  masques  turn  out  ill,  and  that  those 
who  will  not  celebrate  the  great  anniversaries 
turn  out  well.  God  forbid ! 

It  is  that  these  men  builded  better  than  they 
knew,  because  they  did  with  all  their  heart  and 
all  their  soul  the  best  thing  that  they  knew. 
They  loved  Christ  and  feared  God,  and  on 
Christmas  day  did  their  best  to  express  the  love 
and  the  fear.  And  King  James  and  Cadenet,  — 
did  they  love  Christ  and  fear  God  ?  I  do  not 
know.  But  I  do  not  believe,  nor  do  you,  that 
the  masque  of  the  one,  or  the  embassy  of  the 
other,  expressed  the  love,  or  the  hope,  or  the 
faith  of  either ! 

So  it  was  that  John  Carver  and  his  men,  try- 


294  THE   SAME   CHRISTMAS,   ETC. 

ing  to  avoid  the  celebration  of  the  day,  built 
better  than  they  knew  indeed,  and,  in  their 
faith,  laid  a  corner-stone  for  an  empire. 

And  James  and  Cadenet  trying  to  serve 
themselves  —  forgetful  of  the  spirit  of  the -day, 
as  they  pretended  to  honor  it  —  were  so  success 
ful  that  they  destroyed  a  dynasty. 

There  is  moral  enough  for  our  truer  Christ 
mas  holidays  as  1867  leads  in  the  new-born 
sister. 


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Moon,'  '  Water  Talk,'  '  Mouse  and  Lion,'  '  The  Modern  Sinbad,' 
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WHAT   CAREER?  or,  The  Choice  of  a  Vocation  and  the 

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SIR  WALTER  SCOTT'S  "LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL," 
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BERNARDIN  DE  SAINT-PIERRE'S  "  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA." 
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VOLTAIRE'S  "LIFE  OF  CHARLES  THE  TWELFTH."    With 
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LORD  MACAULAY'S  "  LAYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME."    With 
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BUNYAN'S  "  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS."   With  all  of  the  origi 
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CLASSIC    HEROIC    BALLADS.      Edited  by  the  Editor  of 
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AND    OTHERS. 


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READING  AS   A   FINE  ART.     By  ERNEST  LEGOUVE, 

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HOW  TO  TAKE  CARE  OF  OUR  EYES.  With 
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Jfamous  SEomen 

MARGARET"  FULLER. 

BY    JULIA    WARD    HOWE. 

One  volume.    16mo.    Clotli.    Price  §1.00. 


"  A  memoir  of  the  woman  who  first  in  New  England  took  a  position  of  moral 
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Republic,  is  a  literary  event  of  no  common  or  transient  interest.  The  Famous 
Women  Series  will  have  no  worthier  subject  and  no  more  illustrious  biographer. 
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full  of  inspiration."  —  Woman's  Journal. 

"Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe's  biography  of  Margaret  Fuller,  in  the  Famous 
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with  curiosity.  It  will  not  disappoint  expectation.  She  has  made  a  brilliant  and 
an  interesting  book.  Her  study  of  Margaret  Fuller's  character  is  thoroughly 
sympathetic  ;  her  relation  of  her  life  is  done  in  a  graphic  and  at  times  a  fascinating 
manner.  It  is  the  case  of  one  woman  of  strong  individuality  depicting  the  points 
which  made  another  one  of  the  most  marked  characters  of  her  day.  It  is  always 
agreeable  to  follow  Mrs.  Howe  in  this  ;  for  while  we  see  marks  of  her  own  mind 
constantly,  there  is  no  inartistic  protrusion  of  her  personality.  The  book  is  always 
readable,  and  the  relation  of  the  death-scene  is  thrillingly  impressive.''  — Satur 
day  Gazette. 

"Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe  has  retold  the  story  of  Margaret  Fuller's  life  and 
career  in  a  very  interesting  manner.  This  remarkable  woman  was  happy  in 
having  James  Freeman  Clarke,  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  and  William  Henry 
Channing,  all  of  whom  had  been  intimate  with  her  and  had  felt  the  spell  of  her 
extraordinary  personal  influence,  for  her  biographers.  It  is  needless  to  say,  of 
course,  that  nothing  could  be  better  than  these  reminiscences  in  their  way."  — 
New  York  World. 

"The  selection  of  Mrs.  Howe  as  the  writer  of  this  biography  was  a  happy 
thought  on  the  part  of  the  editor  of  the  series ;  for,  aside  from  the  natural  appre 
ciation  she  would  have  for  Margaret  Fuller,  comes  her  knowledge  of  all  the 
influences  that  had  their  effect  on  Margaret  Fuller's  life.  She  tells  the  story  of 
Margaret  Fuller's  interesting  life  from  all  sources  and  from  her  own  knowledge, 
not  hesitating  to  use  plenty  of  quotations  when  she  felt  that  others,  or  even 
Margaret  Fuller  herself,  had  done  the  work  better."  —  Miss  Gilder,  in  Philadel 
phia  Press. 

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ALOHA! 


By  GEORGE  LEONARD  CHANEY. 

One  volume.    16mo.    Cloth.    Price  $1.50. 


"  This  author  knows  how  to  write  books  of  travel.  He  gives  us  here  one  of 
the  most  readable  books  of  the  kind  we  have  taken  up  in  a  long  time.  The  per 
sonal  element  in  it  lends  liveliness  without  being  obtrusive,  the  description  is 
brightly  pictorial,  the  information  fresh  and  valuable,  while  the  narrative  swings 
along  in  free-and-easy  fashion,  —  not  as  if  the  writer  were  playing  with  his  read 
ers,  but  simply  telling  his  story  in  a  happy  mood  of  mind.  On  every  account, 
his  book  is  welcome."  —  Chicago  Standard. 

"  '  A  charming  record  of  travel  !  '  will,  -v*  fhink,  re-echo  the  opinion  of  every 
reader  of  this  volume.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Chanty,  his  wife,  and  four-year-old  boy. 
make  an  excursion  to  the  Sandwich  Islands,  passing  the  winter  there.  They 
receive  kind  attentions  and  grateful  hospitality  from  their  friends  who  are  resi 
dents  of  the  islands.  This  book  is  the  outcome  of  the  writer's  appreciation  of 
the  kindness  he  greatly  enjoyed  and  a  tribute  of  admiration  to  the  natural  beauty 
of  th 


magncen  sgs  an  souns  a  orm  one  o  te  great  aracons  o  ts  ar 
away  land.  Aloha!  (Love  to  you  !)  was  the  first  salutation  that  welcomed  the 
travellers  after  their  eight  days'  voyage  across  the  Pacific.  Aloha  !  in  musical 
notes,  was  the  last  sound  heard  by  the  travellers  as,  homeward  bound,  they  bade 
good-by  to  their  friendly  entertainers.  'A16ha,'  therefore,  seemed  a  fitting  title 
to  the  writer  for  a  record  of  experience  in  harmony  with  the  affectionate  meaning 
of  the  salutation.  Mr.  Chaney  is  a  delightful  writer,  as  the  graceful  sketches 


pans.  e  mnges  ome  ncens  w  excursons  o  amous 
localities  in  a  way  that  secures  the  attention  of  the  reader;  portrays  the  good 
accomplished  by  missionaries  in  descriptions  of  their  homes  and  daily  life,  rather 


islands  of  the  vast  Pacific,  to  enjoy  the  beauties  of  sea  and  shore  with  which 
nature  has  richly  endowed  them,  and  to  appreciate  the  good  that  has  been  accom 
plished  in  the  civilization  and  moral  growth  of  the  native  inhabitants."  —  Provi 
dence  Journal. 

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